From Seto
by Bounced
Summary: Seto's kidnapping takes everything away from him.  The only thing left to cling to is a notebook which he fills with letters to Mokuba.  Sister story to "Dear Mokuba."
1. Chapter 1

Dear Readers,

For those of you who are unaware, this is the sister story to Dear Mokuba. It is not necessary to have read the other in order to understand this story. However, if you would like to see Mokuba's half of this story, please go look. If not, once the chapters start lining up, I'll refer you over to look at Mokuba's side of the story when they relate.

Also important: Know that this takes place before Seto had the chance to take over KaibaCorp. So Gozaburo is still alive. However, for the plot's sake, I'm placing Seto at seventeen.

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><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong>

Seto stopped typing to rub at his eyes. He had the vain hope that rubbing them might help him cope with the exhaustion that was attacking his system.

All it actually accomplished was taking seconds away from his work.

The sudden urge to slam his hands against the keys overwhelmed Seto. He repressed the smirk that the mental image nearly brought on. He continued typing while thinking of the responses the men in the security room would have if he began hitting the computer and throwing papers around.

The end result would be unpleasant. It had been a while since Gozaburo had called him up in the late hours of night in response to his shortcomings. Seto had been working harder than normal to avoid those instances, as he was hoping to ask for the weekend off around Thanksgiving. Gozaburo had no interest in the holiday, but Seto hadn't had any time with Mokuba in weeks.

As Seto reconsidered, he realized it had been around three months since the two of them had been given more than a few minutes or a meal together. The last time was Mokuba's birthday. Gozaburo had given Seto half of the day off in exchange for working through his own birthday. It was no choice, really. Celebrating Mokuba's thirteenth birthday was far more important than his seventeenth, which had come and gone without word.

Except from Mokuba, who had stuck a card underneath Seto's pillow. It had been one of the blank-inside cards, and Mokuba filled every inch with small, precise writing.

The door opened, reminding Seto the he was at work and not supposed to be thinking about birthdays and holidays.

"Did you finish editing the progress reports?" Gozaburo asked.

"Yes sir," Seto answered. He turned slightly in his chair to search through a tall stack of folders sitting on the corner of his desk. Seto's fingers ran down the pile until he came across the one Gozaburo was asking for.

He handed it to his adopted father and waited for the man to say something.

They were at KaibaCorp, so anything Gozaburo said or did was being recorded. Seto didn't have to worry over harsh words or the worse option of being hit while their conversation was observed.

"What are you working on now?" Gozaburo asked.

Seto began to type again as he responded, "The designs for the missile launcher you asked for."

"When will that be completed?" Gozaburo said. Seto picked up the small notes of irritation in Gozaburo's tone. The conversation was taking too long.

"Tomorrow," Seto said confidently. Although the program was still a long way from completion, Seto had determined to finish by the time he went to sleep that night. After all, the more work he completed at the start of the week, the better mood Gozaburo would be in towards the end, which was when Seto planned to ask for two days off.

He knew that if Gozaburo agreed, it would be under the condition that he finished several new assignments before that time. Gozaburo's plan would be to give Seto enough work to keep him busy, but not allow enough time for him to finish before the days Seto would request. To counter that method, Seto planned to get his work done quickly, but not tell Gozaburo the exact moment he finished. He intended to hold onto assignments for a few extra hours, giving him time to work ahead on the next.

Seto had become so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice his adopted father leave the room. Not that his departure was of any consequence. Gozaburo had received what he came for.

Then Seto's eyes drifted to a sheet of paper sitting in his printer. His fingers didn't stop moving while he stared at it. Seto sighed, knowing that Gozaburo would have to come back once he realized that Seto had left out the summary of the report. That didn't help his plan to keep Gozaburo in a good mood.

When the door opened again, Seto didn't bother looking up. He assumed that if he appeared deep in work, Gozaburo wouldn't be quite as upset. He did enjoy seeing Seto working.

Seto stopped typing when he realized that he hadn't been addressed yet. He glanced up, expecting to see Gozaburo standing in front of him, but was met with a group of five men forming a line blocking the door.

"Can I help you with something?" Seto asked. He was unsettled by the men. Something about their posture and expressions let on to the fact that they were not employees, and they were not in his office to simply talk.

Seto kept his face blank as the man in the middle produced a gun from behind his back. The gunman laughed before saying, "Why yes you can. Don't move."

The security team had to be watching. Seto was certain that Gozaburo had hired a man whose sole job was to watch him every moment. How did the men enter the building without drawing an alarm?

Perhaps the security guard was away from his desk. Seto decided that was the only option. If anyone had been looking in, the security team would have flooded the room by that point.

Just to be safe, Seto dropped his hand to the underside of the desk where the silent alarm was located. He had used the button once before when an enraged employee became violent over the idea of taking orders from a fifteen year old. That time, it had only been seconds before response arrived.

Seto froze as he heard a distinctive 'click' come from the men. He stared down the barrel of the gun as the man said, "There is no need to alert the security, Mr. Kaiba. We wouldn't want them to interrupt."

After he spoke, the five men began to walk forward, and their action caused Seto to stand.

His mind was spinning. It was apparent that their intentions were less than moral. The gun was a clear sign of that. But their reason for holding him at gunpoint was still a mystery. If they wanted something from Gozaburo, it would make more sense to have the gun trained at the CEO. Or if they wanted to trade Seto's life for a ransom, someone would have to know they were in the building.

A terrifying thought edged its way into Seto's mind. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the idea that just maybe, they were not there to get something from Gozaburo at all. Maybe they were in the building for him.

As they grew closer, Seto finally came to the conclusion that they were trying to kidnap him. There was no other reason for the five men to enter his office.

He cast his eyes towards the camera mounted high up on the wall across from his desk. Someone had to be watching. Someone had to be seeing the five men surrounding him.

A hand grabbed Seto's arm. He understood the need to stall for time, and turned to shake out of the grip. The man sneered as Seto used his opposite hand to claw at the hand on his arm.

Seto managed to pull himself from the man's hold, and when he did so, he noticed that the man with the gun made no threats. If he truly wanted Seto's cooperation, all he would have to do is threaten to shoot. Seto assumed from this that the man had no intentions of harming him. The gun was merely a tool to distract him.

Then he understood. Seto was staring at four men. '_Where is the fifth?' _he thought.

Right as he was about to look behind, he felt the cold, piercing sensation of a needle entering the skin at the back of his neck. A small gasp escaped his lips. It wasn't that the needle hurt, it was simply unexpected. The following cool rush the spread underneath his skin let him know that within moments, he would likely be unconscious.

In a last attempt at contacting security, Seto tried for the alarm under his desk. But before he could even reach down, the drug took effect.

His legs lost feeling first, but before he fell, Seto was picked up. He could no longer see anything, but his hearing hadn't faded. The men exchanged a few words as the barrel of the gun was pressed against his head.

Seto could feel the man carrying him begin to walk towards the exit. He couldn't tell how far they had gone before cries of "Don't shoot!" echoed around him.

It was the last thing he heard before he slipped from consciousness.

When Seto awoke, he immediately tried to sit up, but was overcome with a wave of dizziness. He collapsed back down with his eyes closed to fight the spinning that was filling his mind.

He was surprised to find that the surface he was lying on was soft. Even without looking, he could tell that it was a bed, and a comfortable one. The comforter had been pulled around him, which was off-putting.

Seto opened his eyes without trying to sit up again. Evidently, the drug was still lingering in his system.

The walls surrounding him were unfamiliar. He had hoped that while he was unconscious, someone would have stopped the men from taking him. However, upon examining the room, he was doubtful.

He was in a bedroom. From the general feeling of the room, it was in a regular house. The fact that the room didn't seem to be in a KaibaCorp owned facility was what let Seto know that the security staff all needed to be fired. Whoever the men were, they had gotten him out of the building.

Very slowly, Seto sat up. The slower he moved, the less his vision swam. When he was sitting upright, Seto got his first full look of the room. He tried to quickly memorize it all, as he had been trained to do.

The walls were an off shade of white that leaned more towards green than any other color. They were covered in pictures of outdoor scenes that varied from a simple image of a tree to a mountain path. None of the pictures contained faces. Across the room was a bookshelf that towered high and was filled with thick volumes. From where he sat, he couldn't read any of the titles.

Next to the bookshelf was a desk and chair, which unfortunately, didn't come with a computer. It had nothing on its surface, giving off the impression that it was little used.

And then there was the large bed Seto currently laid upon. The blanket that covered him was green. Seto got the earthy theme the room was supposed to emit.

There were two doors. By looking at them, Seto could tell that one lead to either a bathroom or closet and the other would lead to the rest of the house. He guessed that the one that was next to the bookshelf was the exit while the one nearer to the bed was the bathroom or closet.

The only abnormal thing about the room was the lack of a window. That confused him slightly, as most all rooms had a window.

Seto chewed on his lip. He could be in a basement room that was meant to look bright in order to compensate for the absence of natural light.

The door across from Seto opened, confirming his theory that it lead to the rest of the house by revealing the smallest glimpse of a hallway.

He only received a small look at the area outside the bedroom, as a more important sight entered his vision. A man walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

The man was tall. It was the first thing that Seto noticed. Seto knew that he himself was tall for his age, but just looking at the man told Seto that he was several inches shorter. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties, although the only sign of his age came from his skin, which had several deep wrinkles. The man's perfectly styled hair had streaks of gray running through it. But Seto didn't feel the gray was a sign of his age. The streaks were too perfect to have been completely natural.

"I didn't think you would be awake yet," the man said.

Seto didn't answer. He watched the man slide off a jacket and lay it over the back of the chair.

"What? No clever remark? I was told you were full of those," the man went on.

"Who are you?" Seto asked. The question was all that Seto could think to say. There were no retorts that fit his panic. He had been kidnapped and he got the feeling that this was the man behind his abduction. But, shouldn't he be tied up or restrained in some way?

"I'd love for you to call me 'Daddy,'" the man said. He walked over to stand next to Seto.

Seto fought the urge to scoot over to the other side of the bed. He closed his eyes to keep from glancing at the door. He tried to decide if he could outrun the man standing near to him. He doubted it. Since he was sitting down, he was already at a disadvantage.

When Seto opened his eyes, he saw the man staring down at him. Neither spoke while they examined the other. But the silence must have become too much for the older man, as he lowered himself to kneel on the bed.

Seto leaned back as the man reached towards him. The man gave him a smile and began to loosen the tie still around Seto's neck. Seto was too confused to argue.

"As cute as you look in your work clothes, I doubt that you are very comfortable," he said as he slid the tie from its place.

'_As cute?' _Seto thought, the words slowly sinking into his mind. The moment he put the few clues together in his mind, he shoved the man's hands away.

"What are you doing?" he spat. He instantly regretted the word choice. That wasn't what he was trying to ask.

"I'm trying to make your more comfortable, Seto. I thought that was obvious," the man said. He shook his head with a laugh as he spoke, irritating Seto.

"You know that Gozaburo won't give you anything," Seto said. He turned his head to the side after speaking. That hadn't been what he meant to say either. He was too shaken to put his thoughts together.

"I don't expect anything from your father," the man said. He put Seto's tie around his own neck, not tying it, just letting it hang loose.

Seto's head turned back and he met his kidnapper's eyes. "I don't understand," Seto admitted.

The man smiled and leaned closer to the teen. When Seto leaned away once more, the man wrapped his hand around the back of Seto's neck to keep him from moving. Then he quickly closed the distance, pressing his lips against Seto's.

He only held the position for a few moments before dropping his hand from Seto and settling back into a kneeling position on the bed.

Seto was stunned, and thus unable to move at all. If he had been able, he would have lifted a hand to rub against his mouth in a pathetic attempt to remove any traces of the man. But he felt like the drug was back in his system. He just couldn't move.

"I got what I wanted," the man explained.

He stopped breathing. '_No,' _was all that Seto could think. It couldn't actually be happening. He had to be dreaming. None of this could be real.

The man crawled back off the bed and ran his hands over his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. "Since I didn't expect you to be awake yet, I didn't bring you any dinner. I'll go get something now."

When he left the room, Seto heard a quiet 'thud' come from the other side. He knew the sound. The man had flipped a deadbolt into place.

Seto still couldn't move. He stared at the wall in front of him, but didn't really see it. He couldn't get his mind around what had just taken place. Nothing made sense, and Seto's mind was wired to think sensibly. Had he really just been kidnapped?

Finally managing to regain some mobility, Seto scratched the back of his hand. He focused on the small pain until it gently faded. That had felt real. He couldn't feel things that clearly in a dream.

If it was all real, then Seto knew he had to find a way out. He couldn't stay with that man. He'd rather die.

So Seto decided that he would find an escape. And until he did so, he would fight the man with all he had. Now that he had a better idea of what to expect, he would be able to prepare himself for it. He wouldn't be taken off guard again.

And if he couldn't manage to get out on his own, Seto was confident that with all the resources the police had at their disposal, they would be able to find him. It might take time, but they dealt with these situations daily. And with Gozaburo Kaiba searching, as Seto was sure he would be, it couldn't take long.

It couldn't.

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><p>The next chapter will be up shortly!<p>

AN: _I remember when I started writing fanfiction at like eleven. I thought that Seto Kaiba was the most mature person I had ever heard of, and since he was seventeen, I **really** wanted to be seventeen. Yet now, as I look back on my time being seventeen, I realize that I was really immature. I've been thinking of the people I know who are seventeen, and they all seemed immature to me too. _

_So I started writing Seto here, and I realized that I was possibly making him too mature. I understand that he is still under Gozaburo's thumb in his story. But since I haven't set it up so that he has defeated Gozaburo, I still see his character as being sort of broken. Yes, he is insanely intellegent, but he hasn't gained all that self-confidence that he won by taking over KaibaCorp. And we can't forget, when it comes down to it, Seto is still a child. (Yes, I consider teenagers "children") No amount of training can prepare a person to be thrown into this situation. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Seto searched through the bathroom and found nothing of use. He had committed the time after his kidnapper left to a deep examination of the space, but the two rooms turned out to be close to completely empty. He found nothing that might help him get out of the locked room.

The bathroom contained only the necessities. The only item which Seto thought was missing was a razor. Yet, its absence regrettably made sense.

Seto had been about to step back into the bedroom when he noticed a detail he had overlooked in his initial search. The detail was so minor that it almost went unseen, and still, it managed to shake the Kaiba heir.

There were two toothbrushes sitting on the counter. The image immediately presented two facts that were wrong. The first was that Seto's abduction had been thought through well enough that the minute details had been taken into account. His kidnapping had been extensively planned. Whoever that man was, he was intelligent enough to work out any issues that might arise. That would make it more difficult for the investigators to find him. Seto chewed on the edge of his thumbnail as he tried to erase that knowledge from his head.

The second fact told Seto that only one of the toothbrushes was his. The other had to belong to someone, and that someone planned on spending a great deal of time in the adjoining bedroom. As much as Seto did not want to think about it, he knew that there was space enough in the large bed for two.

Seto caught himself glaring at the toothbrushes. How absurd that such a simple item could cause him so much worry, and yet, he couldn't force his mind clean of the ideas.

A smirk appeared on Seto's face as he imagined dropping the second toothbrush in the toilet. It amused him that his mind jumped to such childish actions when put under pressure. As much as he would enjoy the small act of rebellion, he wouldn't take the risk of dropping his toothbrush instead of the other.

Turning his head away, Seto looked back at the bed in the next room. He ran his fingers back through his hair in irritation as the bed brought the memory back to the surface of his thoughts. How could he have just sat there while his kidnapper showed his true intent? Seto knew he had given off the impression of being a submissive child instead of the strong-willed man he had been training to be. Why hadn't he fought back?

Seto left the bathroom and leaned against the wall nearest to its door. He allowed his knees to buckle, letting him slide down to sit on the floor. The bed would have been more comfortable, or even the desk chair, but Seto didn't want to use the man's furniture.

His eyes drifted over the small mess he had made in the bedroom. It had been the first room he searched. The drawers on the desk were still open, showing their bare interiors. A few of the books were out of place, as Seto had glanced through several of the volumes, searching for a name written on the inside. He found none, but did note that none of them had been published within the last fifty years. The comforter on the bed had been pulled up from where Seto had glanced underneath the bed. It, like the rest of the space, was empty.

When Seto glanced back at the bed, he closed his eyes. His mouth began to burn with the memory of the kiss. And for what had to have been the tenth time, Seto attempted to rub the feeling away.

It had to have been the shock that held him motionless. If Seto had known what the man's intentions were, he was certain that he would have done something in response. He certainly wouldn't have froze.

He made a silent promise not to allow his kidnapper to try such an act again.

Seto leaned his head against the wall and pulled his knees up close. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what was happening outside the room. His thoughts went to KaibaCorp, where there must have been dozens of police officers and detectives examining the scene of his abduction. Gozaburo was more than likely in a terrible temper. In his imagination, Seto saw him storming about the building, shouting at the investigators and demanding answers. Though he was almost sure that he had been gone only a few hours, Gozaburo wouldn't want to wait any longer than necessary. His reaction would not be out of concern for Seto. It was a matter of pride.

Seto knew that his adopted father thought of him as more of a possession than a son. Gozaburo spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on his education alone. The past five years had been centered around training Seto to be the next CEO of the company. Gozaburo viewed the process as plugging information into a computer. With Gozaburo, there were no personal matters, no opinions, only knowledge. All he needed from Seto was his mind.

Since Gozaburo viewed Seto as a computer or a database, he had to monitor him. Every moment of Seto's life as a Kaiba had been observed and recorded. If he was not where he was supposed to be at the proper time, he would be punished.

Seto changed his mind. Maybe Gozaburo didn't see him as a computer. Perhaps it was more like being a really smart dog.

Crossing his arms, Seto let his thoughts drift from that subject. He didn't particularly enjoy comparing himself to an animal.

Instead, he took a deep breath and returned to envisioning the scene at KaibaCorp. Mokuba was more than likely brought over from his classes to prevent any attempts at his being kidnapped. The officers probably had him hidden away in some well-concealed room where he would be safe.

But Seto knew Mokuba would not care about being safe. He, like most everyone else, would want to know where Seto had been taken. Mokuba was very likely worried.

Seto's mind created an image of Mokuba crying on the couch in Seto's office. In the mental picture, Roland was kneeling down in front of him, trying to comfort the youngest Kaiba. Mokuba's fingers clutched the chain around his neck as his body shook. Every time he tried to open the locket, more tears would flow.

Seto opened his eyes to break the image. Even though his brother was almost certainly crying at the moment, he didn't want to think on it. He wanted to always think of Mokuba happy. So Seto reached up to his neck to feel for the familiar chain.

He found nothing.

His fingers ran around the perimeter of his neck, but the locket was gone. He didn't understand. He still wore the same clothing as before, so why would the one thing be missing? Seto clearly recalled putting it on earlier in the day. There was no reason for it to be gone.

When the door opened, Seto immediately dropped his hand to focus on his kidnapper's entrance. The man was carrying a tray with a plate carefully balanced on top, but Seto paid no attention to the food.

"Where is my locket?" he asked, not giving the man a chance to say anything.

The man laid down the tray on the desk while he answered, "I don't feel that you need it."

"Where is it?" Seto insisted.

"Looking at it will only make you upset," the kidnapper said, turning to look down on his captive.

"Being kidnapped by a pervert isn't upsetting enough?" Seto spat. Although he didn't show it, he was relieved to find that he was capable of forming his thoughts properly.

Instead of becoming offended at being called a pervert, the man raised his eyebrows. "You do know that I bought this furniture for you. There is no need to sit on the floor."

Seto ignored the statement and glanced at the door. It stood open, and once again, he debated trying to run out. Yet, like before, he was at a disadvantage due to his position. He reluctantly decided to stay where he was.

The man noticed Seto's gaze. "Go ahead," he said, tilting his chin towards the door. "I won't stop you."

Seto frowned, confused. "You would let me run?"

The man shrugged to accompany his comment. "I never said you would make it far."

The man would not have gone through the trouble of kidnapping Seto only to let him walk out. The odds of there being another locked door were high, along with the chances of the man having a gun. There was a catch; Seto was sure of it.

Looking back to the man, Seto pushed himself up to his feet. He was tired of being stared down at and preferred to be closer to eye level.

"Why am I really here?" Seto asked. His heart pounded faster with the question, but he wanted to verify his fears. There was still the chance he was being held for ransom.

The man sighed. He began walking towards Seto, who was still leaning against the wall and had nowhere to run. Seto had no choice but to let his kidnapper take hold of his arm and lead him over to the desk. The man gently pushed Seto into the chair with the command, "Eat."

Seto didn't obey. "Tell me."

"Do not order me," the man said, but his tone came across polite.

Seto pressed his lips together. Trying to run was sounding more and more like a good idea.

"Why won't you tell me anything?" Seto asked. He knew that he should be more afraid than he was, but frustration was building up inside him. Seto didn't feel as though he could truly fear a situation that he did not completely understand.

"I am telling you what you need to know, dear," the man answered.

Pushing the chair back, Seto got to his feet. He shoved the tray away and said, "No, you aren't."

Seto found his breaths growing heavier as he grew more frustrated. He turned his head to the side in an attempt to remain composed.

No amount of training could have prepared Seto for this. The entire situation was just wrong. A regular kidnapping should not go like this. Seto knew that something was off, but he couldn't bring himself to admit what was happening.

"Sit back down."

When Seto made no move to respond, the man reached out and pushed Seto's chin around until they faced each other. Seto hit the hand away, but sat as instructed.

Seto breathed in deeply. He would remain logical. There was no point in shouting and fighting when the man had the obvious advantage. He needed to think his actions through and bide his time. The would not allow the man to get the better of him.

"Before I leave, I would like to introduce you to someone."

Seto watched his kidnapper step backwards so that he could lean out the door. "You can come in now," he called out.

The kidnapper stepped out of the doorway as another man walked in. Seto felt the urge to pull away from the man, but he didn't give in to the desire. The second man was no taller than him, but he was thickly built and muscular. His glare read of disdain, mixed with the smallest hints of boredom.

"Seto, this is Jim. He will be taking care of you while I'm away," his kidnapper said.

Seto stared at Jim as both of the men stared at him. He wanted to say something sharp and witty, but nothing came to mind. With just one man holding him hostage, he had a chance at getting away. Two put him far behind in the odds.

"What? No hello?" the kidnapper asked.

Neither Jim nor Seto spoke. When the silence lasted until it became intensely uncomfortable, the kidnapper filled it.

"Well then, we will leave you to your lunch."

"Is that what meal this is?" Seto asked. He remembered the man saying dinner the previous time. Was he purposefully trying to remove Seto's sense of time?

His kidnapper smiled. "Perhaps. Jim will be back shortly for your plate," he said, then left.

Jim lingered a moment longer, maintaining his glare until he too stepped back out of the room.

When the door closed, Seto couldn't help but walk over to it and try the knob. But of course, it was locked. Seto placed his palms against the wooden surface and leaned his head forward until his forehead it the door.

A hand returned to his neck as a reflex. When it found no chain to hold, his fingers curled into a fist, as if clutching the locket that was absent.

It couldn't be happening.

* * *

><p>Sorry for the delay. I had this chapter written (as I do with the following ones), but hated it. It was too much description and not enough of Seto's thoughts. Thus, I did a rewrite.<p>

Hopefully it was worth the wait!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Seto spun the fork between his fingers while he stared at the locked door. He had no idea why a fork had been brought in with the meal. A sandwich sat on the plate along with carrot sticks. Nothing there required utensils. Perhaps his kidnapper assumed that Seto would prefer to eat with a fork as opposed to using his hands.

The reasoning wasn't important. Seto had come up with an idea. As he sat nervously next to the bathroom door, his foot tapped rapidly against the carpeted floor. He tried to think through all the possible outcomes of an attempt to escape. The best result would be getting out. And even if he couldn't do so, at least he would have more information to go off of in future attempts.

But he couldn't decide what the worst case would be. His kidnapper didn't seem like the violent sort, but Jim did. If Jim worked for the other man, he shouldn't be allowed to hurt Seto. At least, that was Seto's hope. As much as he knew, the man had gone out of his way to make certain that Seto remained unharmed.

Seto closed his eyes. If the man really wanted him for . . . Seto opened his eyes. The man wouldn't let anything happen to him. Even if he did, Seto decided that he would prefer being injured. That he could handle, and it might help to delay whatever plans the man had for him.

The fork stopped spinning. Seto had broken out of his room before when Gozaburo locked him in. He was confident that he would be able to get out of this one. It was the variables that kept Seto's mind working. He didn't know what he would find on the other side of the door. In the brief glances he received of the hallway, there didn't seem to be anything out there that would prevent him from leaving. What if Jim or the kidnapper was sitting right outside? Then he would get nowhere.

He knew that he had to try. Seto turned and looked at the closed door beside him. He slid the fork into the crack between the door and frame. It fit easily, much to Seto's relief. His plan would never work if he had to force the fork in.

With that first test complete, Seto pushed back on the wall to get to his feet. He continued to spin the fork around his fingers as he walked to the bookshelf. He then laid the fork down and chose a book at random. Seto opened to the middle and tore out a page. He began to meticulously roll the page into a tight spiral. He worked as quickly as his fingers would allow, while all the time casting anxious glances at the door.

When he finished, he put the book back into its place. Seto grabbed the fork and stepped back to examine the shelf. He decided that it appeared no different and went again to his previous spot.

He didn't sit down. Seto stood to wait for Jim's return though he had no idea as to how long that might take. He was tired of being at a disadvantage by sitting.

As he stood there, he put the fork into his front pocket and untucked his shirt to cover it. Then to pass the time, he rolled the ends of the paper between his fingers to ensure that it was as tightly rolled as possible.

He didn't think about anything else except his plan. Thoughts of Mokuba pressed to the surface of his mind, but he pushed them out. He couldn't let anything distract him. Any mistake or timing miscalculation could be the tipping point. His complete focus had to be on the task at hand.

Eventually, Seto heard the footsteps coming closer. He took the narrow roll of paper and hid it in his sleeve. Double checking to make certain that the fork was concealed perfectly, Seto took a deep breath and leaned back. He erased all traces of worry off his face in an attempt to keep his real plan hidden.

Seto heard the locks being undone and the handle twisting. He turned his head away so he wouldn't see Jim walking in. He wanted to look more angry than anxious or afraid. Seto nearly smirked when he realized that he had never had to worry about his facial expressions being angry before.

Jim hesitated his step when he didn't immediately see Seto. Upon turning his head and seeing him, Jim moved to the table.

He slid the plate towards himself and glanced at it, then back to Seto. For a second, Seto's breath caught in his throat. He wasn't sure if Jim knew that there had been a fork on the plate. If he noticed, Seto would have no chance at getting out.

"Don't take this as concern for your health," Jim began. "But you do understand that you will have to eat eventually."

Seto exhaled. "Would you force me?" he asked.

"No, but he would."

Jim picked up the plate. He started walking back towards the door.

"Who is he?" Seto asked.

"Don't ask questions."

And Jim left the room. As the door was closing, Seto knew that he was hidden from Jim's sight. So while the door was being closed, Seto moved along with it. The moment that it slammed against the frame, Seto pulled the fork from his pocket and slipped the smaller end of the fork into the place where he knew the dead bolt would be sliding. Seconds later, he felt the bolt push against it.

He waited. If Jim just flipped the lock into place, then Seto doubted that he would notice the lock not sliding the entire way. However, if he paid it any attention, it would be immediately apparent.

Time had never felt so slow for Seto. The rational portion of his thought processes told him that it would only take a few seconds to determine whether or not his plan had worked. But each second beat heavily against his mind. Seto could practically feel each one like a blow to the chest. He was left without a breath while waiting for anything to happen.

Nothing happened, but Seto remained still.

He heard the footsteps moving away, but remained still.

Then he heard nothing, but remained still.

Had it really been that easy? Had his plan up to this point gone perfectly? Seto found it hard to believe. Nothing ever went so easily for him.

But more time passed. Seto couldn't bring himself to move out of fear that his mind had conjured up the sounds of Jim leaving. Perhaps he had heard his heartbeat and mistaken it for footsteps. Certainly Jim still stood beside the door, waiting for Seto to emerge.

And still the seconds went forward. Gradually, Seto focused his mind. If Jim hadn't reacted to the lock not closing all the way, then he wasn't going to. The footsteps had been real. No one was in the hallway.

So as quietly as he could, Seto pushed the dead bolt back. He made certain that he had moved it all the way before removing the fork. That he bent down to place on the floor, too nervous to let it fall. Before attempting the next part of the plan, Seto tested the handle. As he expected, it was locked.

He then shook his sleeve until the tip of the paper came out. Seto leaned forward to look in the crack between the door and frame. He made a final adjustment to the roll of paper and began to thread it behind the latch keeping the door closed. On the first try, he managed to get it into place, but couldn't get the bottom end out of the crack.

Seto quickly pulled it back out. At least he had verified that it was a tight enough roll to fit in the narrow space. He next had to bend it so that when he got it into place again, the bottom end would stick out for him to grab.

Once more, he tried. The second time was successful. Seto held both ends of the paper that were looped around the latch in one hand. He used his other hand to grab onto the knob. The final part of his breakout had to be perfectly synchronized. He had to calm down again by reminding himself that he could always repeat this action. He didn't need to get it right the first time.

Although it was just Seto performing the task, he still counted to three. On three, he pulled both hands back. In doing so, he slid the latch out of place. In the moment when it was displaced, he would be able to open the door, locked or not.

It worked. Seto released a relieved sigh and leaned his head out to look in the hallway. Just as he had hoped, it was empty.

There were no pictures on the walls or any form of decoration. The door Seto was standing next to was the only one along the walls. Down his left side was a set of stairs leading up. A closed door stood at the top. It verified Seto's earlier thought that he was in a basement.

Seto wasted no more time looking at the hall. He moved as quickly as he dared. The floors in the hallway were concrete, which made Seto feel like his steps were too loud. But the stairs being concrete helped, as there was no risk of them creaking to give away his position. It made his ascension almost impossible to hear.

At the top, Seto pressed his ear against the door. He could barely make out voices, sending his heart rate flying. The voices were garbled as though they were far away or electronic.

They were coming from a television, Seto realized. And if the sounds were that faint, he doubted that the next room was where the television was. Though the idea was reassuring, Seto stayed in the basement hall a while longer. He wanted to make sure that he could hear nothing from the next room.

The television was the only thing he could hear. As much as he didn't want to, Seto began to twist the handle. Luckily, Jim or his kidnapper didn't think to lock it. Seto doubted that he would have been able to get through a second door with no preparation time.

While turning the handle, Seto pressed a hand against his chest, as if that would slow down his heartbeat. The beating echoed in his ears, sounding more like a machine gun than a heartbeat.

He gently pushed the door open. Seto didn't bother doing it too slowly. If someone was in the next room, then they would notice what he was doing either way. Seto opened it enough that he could fit through.

The doorway revealed another hallway. Unlike the one he just exited, it was fairly decorated with a brown paint and pictures. None of the pictures were of people. Even if they had been, Seto wouldn't have stopped to look at them. His eyes locked onto a doorway straight ahead. There was an opening that lead to the kitchen in front of him, and on the other side of the kitchen was a door. It was one of the doors that had a window. Seto could see the exit.

His steps were small and precise. He stayed away from the center of the hallway where floors had the tendency to creak. Seto did everything he could think of to remain undetected.

But Jim walked out of an adjoining room carrying an empty cup. Instantly their eyes met, though Jim glanced away briefly to look behind Seto. Jim looked back to Seto, but by that time, Seto had closed his eyes in defeat.

"I know I locked that door."

Seto bit back a curse word as he opened his eyes. He could see the door. It was that close and he wouldn't be able to get to it.

"How did you get out?" Jim asked.

"I can pick a lock," Seto answered.

"From the wrong side?" Jim said with a small laugh.

Jim scratched at the back of his head. There was a small table next to him, so he sat his cup down. With his newly freed hand, he reached behind him and pulled out a gun. He pointed it vaguely in Seto's direction.

"Go back down," he ordered.

"Why are you doing this?" Seto asked, unwilling to give up.

"He is paying me. Now move."

"You know my-" Seto tried not to hesitate, "-father would pay you for my safe return."

"It's a nice try, kid. But this is an extended gig. As long as you are here, I get an income."

Seto did his best not to react to that. A part of him had hoped that his kidnapper would get tired of him or decide to release him. If Jim planned on working for him that long, Seto had even more reason to worry.

"And you are fine with his kidnapping me?"

"Like I said, I get paid."

Seto felt like he was fighting a battle he couldn't possibly hope to win. But the sight of the doorway behind Jim still had his attention.

"You know what he wants me for," Seto said.

Even from the distance, Seto could see Jim's jaw clench. For the smallest of moments, Seto thought that he had triggered something that Jim would feel guilty over.

But Jim aimed the gun at Seto's right knee. "He said I could shoot you. Don't make me shoot you."

The door in the kitchen nearly had Seto to the point of begging. He ran both hands back through his hair in frustration before looking behind him at the basement door. Seto shook his head and shifted his gaze back to Jim.

Jim didn't give him the opportunity to try anything further. He took a step closer to Seto, keeping the gun trained on his knee. Seto had no choice but to back away and down the concrete stairs.

Moving backwards was one of the hardest things Seto had ever had to do. He had gotten so far, but it got him nowhere. Seto knew he had failed and that now, Jim and his kidnapper would be watching him more closely. He wouldn't receive another opportunity like the one he had just messed up.

Jim lead Seto into the bedroom and instructed him to sit on the bed. Jim remained by the door while Seto obeyed. From that position, Jim saw the fork on the floor. He bent down to grab it, then held it up.

"Why did he give you a fork?"

Seto could only shrug.

"It's like he was asking you to escape," Jim muttered. He closed the door and Seto heard it being dead bolted.

Seto knew that he would hate that sound for the rest of his life.

When he felt tears threatening, Seto buried his face in his hands. He took several shaky breaths to keep himself collected. He wouldn't cry. He hated himself for even getting that close to crying. Seto didn't cry.

Seto let himself fall backwards so he faced the ceiling. His eyes unfocused so that he wasn't really looking at anything. He went over his ruined plan multiple times. If he had been a few minutes faster or slower, it might have worked. The timing had just gone wrong.

The door opened again. Seto didn't bother looking, because he knew it was Jim. Why Jim had returned, Seto wasn't certain. He wasn't sure if he cared.

But he heard a clanging sound that he couldn't identify. It confused him enough that he had to sit up in order to see what its source was.

Jim's gun remained pointed at him, and in the other hand was a chain.

* * *

><p>Dear Readers,<p>

I want to apologize for the delay in this update. It was partly due to my own laziness and partly because I was busy. A great portion of the delay was due to the fact that I could not get this scene written to the standard I wanted. I'm not even sure this is where I wanted it to be. Again, I apologize for making you all wait. If it happens again, please message me to inform me that I am behind in updating. That generally works.

-Bounced


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

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><p>Seto sat on the edge of the bed. He had crossed his chained ankle up so it rested on top of his other knee. He leaned down, putting his face close to examine the lock more carefully. The band was a thick piece of leather that had padding attached on the inside.<p>

'_How considerate_,' Seto thought dryly.

Jim had just switched out the chains a few moments before. The first one which had been place on a while back, Seto didn't know how long it had been, was completely metal. After wearing it for what must have been a few days, or maybe a week, it had rubbed off all the skin around his ankle. The previous night - morning, afternoon? - his kidnapper had noticed the injury. Though he didn't comment on it, Seto knew it bothered him. The small frown that had crossed the man's face when he saw it had been enough to clue Seto in.

Seto ran his fingers over the lock that kept him from pulling it off. Seto knew there was no way to remove it without the key. After the last escape attempt, there was nothing in Seto's reach that could come close to helping him pick the lock, even if Seto was certain he knew how.

Sliding off the bed, Seto knelt down. He lifted up the edge of the comforter which had been blocking his view. The bed was now bolted to the floor, and around one of the legs was the other end of the chain. It was secured with a large padlock.

Seto dropped the comforter. He pushed himself up to his knees as he released a heavy sigh. It seemed that he would just have to wait for the police to find him or for his kidnapper to make a mistake.

He moved back to the bed. As much as he wanted to avoid the connotations that came along with the bed, it was more comfortable than the floor. Seto had tried several times since the chain had been put on to reach the desk chair, but it was about a foot out of his reach.

Seto hated the way the room was organized. His kidnapper had set it up so the bed was the only piece of furniture Seto had access to. The idea was degrading.

Crossing his legs, Seto leaned back against the headboard of the bed. He kept his chained ankle on top of the other. He understood that in comparison to the last, this chain was preferable. It didn't hurt like the last one did, only from the injuries that were already there.

His fingers traced the ring cut into his ankle. Maybe he shouldn't have tried so hard to get to that chair.

The door opened. Seto's eyes flickered to it to watch his kidnapper walk in. He seemed happy, which made Seto want to spit on him. Also, another thing Seto noticed was the hand hidden behind him. Was he holding something back there?

Seto didn't let his eyes linger on it very long. He didn't want to show any signs of interest.

"Good morning, Seto," the man said cheerfully.

As he walked closer to the bed, Seto raised his eyebrows and asked, "Is it morning?"

His kidnapper smirked, now standing at the foot of the bed. "Perhaps," he answered.

Seto was quickly becoming uneasy with how close the man was standing. And even more off putting was the smile that stayed plastered on his face.

"I got you a present," he finally announced.

Seto didn't say anything. He would have assumed that a new chain, one that didn't cut his ankle with every movement, was the present. But the hand still hidden from his sight told him differently.

Upon seeing Seto's lack of response, the man pulled the item out of hiding.

"A notebook?" Seto questioned.

"I can't very well let my little technology genius have anything electronic," the man said.

Seto's nose wrinkled into a snarl at the use of the possessive pronoun. It disgusted him.

The man held it out to him, but Seto didn't take it. He stared up at the man as though he was insane - a fact which was more than likely truth.

The man shook his head and placed the notebook on Seto's lap.

"Draw, doodle, write, whatever you'd like. I swear I won't peek."

Seto's snarl remained in place. "There is an entire bookcase over there."

"If you can reach it, feel free to read from it," the man said, then stepped over and grabbed both of Seto's elbows, pulling him to his feet. The notebook fell to the floor, but Seto was far more concerned with how close he was being held. He tried to pull back, but despite the man's older age, he was larger and stronger than Seto.

"You know, when someone gives you a gift, it is proper etiquette to thank that person."

"Doesn't really apply here," Seto hissed out through clenched teeth.

"I'm telling you it does. Don't you want to thank me?"

As he spoke, the man leaned forward as though he were going to kiss Seto. Desperate to get away, Seto turned his head as far away as he could. But all that did was present his entire neck to the man.

Seto nearly gagged when he felt the tongue tracing across his jaw. He leaned back with all his weight, but his kidnapper held on strong.

In one final attempt to get the man off, Seto shifted to his chained leg and slammed his other knee up.

He was released immediately. His kidnapper's wide eyes stared in shock as Seto tired to get distance between the two of them. But in his haste, Seto forgot about the chain. It hit the maximum distance it could reach, and Seto stumbled and fell backwards.

He laid sprawled out facing up while the man recovered. Seto's hand moved to rub the back of his head which had slammed against the floor. Seto stared up, watching the man walk closer.

The man knelt down beside his captive. Seto knew that it was hopeless to try to move any further away. He turned his head, but the man gently grabbed his chin, using only enough pressure to keep Seto looking at him.

"I want to be nice to you, Seto. You are trying to make me be mean."

Then, pausing just long enough to touch his lips to Seto's forehead, the man left the room. Seto stared dejectedly at the door as he heard it lock from the other side. In addition to the dead bolt, Seto heard the small chain that had been recently added sliding into place.

Seto pushed himself into a sitting position. He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm. But his hands were shaking. When squeezing his fingers into a fist did nothing, he ran his hands through his hair.

This wasn't happening. It had likely been over a week and he was still trapped in this room.

Seto moved so he could pull his knees up to his chest. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on the palms of his hands.

'_Why haven't they found me yet?'_ Seto thought. It didn't make sense. He was Seto _Kaiba_. His kidnapping was a high profile case. They had to be looking. He had been kidnapped in the middle of the day. There had been cameras and witnesses. The police had so many leads. How difficult could it be to find him?

Seto hated being dependent on others. But there was nothing he could do but wait. It was a horrible feeling.

Seto let his hands fall and his eyes landed on the notebook. It shouldn't have surprised Seto that the man's idea of a decent gift was a notebook. Seto was a genius, but he couldn't think of one logical thing to do with it. He closed his eyes. Maybe he would have to result to the illogical.

A chuckle rose to Seto's lips as he envisioned the room covered with paper airplanes. If that wasn't a sure way to get himself in trouble, he wouldn't have hesitated. But Seto was still shaken up after the last visit.

What Seto really wanted was to talk to Mokuba. This was the longest time Seto could remember that he hadn't spoken to his little brother. Even Gozaburo knew better than to keep them apart for long.

Seto didn't want a notebook; he wanted to talk to his brother.

Seto debated as to whether or not the man would let him write Mokuba a letter. The odds were basically less than one percent. There would be too many risks involved. Maybe if he wrote Mokuba a letter, it might feel like he was, in a way, talking to his brother. Of course, he would receive no reply, but it just might help.

Seto sighed. It wasn't as though he had anything better to do. He bent forward and grabbed the notebook off the floor. Seto leaned back against the bed and pulled the pen off the spiral binding where it was conveniently hooked. Seto turned to the first page and put the pen on the first line.

If he were actually talking to Mokuba, what would he say?

Mokuba would be curious about where the notebook came from, so that was where Seto began.

_'He walked into the room today and proudly presented me this notebook.' _

Seto stared at the line he had just written. That was what he decided Mokuba needed to know first? It didn't tell Mokuba anything about what had happened to him or how he had been handling the situation. So Seto elaborated.

'_He claimed it to be a gift of some sort, as though I had been good enough to deserve one._' That didn't tell Mokuba about Seto though. _'It seems as though I have fallen into a depressed state_.'

Seto nearly scratched out that line. He didn't want Mokuba to know that much. But Seto rolled his eyes. Mokuba wouldn't be reading this letter.

_'He must have assumed that giving me this notebook will make up for taking my life away. And it is one of the only forms of semi-entertainment that does not involve electricity._'

Seto ground his teeth together. Seto barely believed that he was doing something as absurd as writing his brother a letter that would never be read. Mokuba wouldn't believe that either. That too would have to be explained.

'_He swore that he would not read anything I write in here_.' Seto snorted. Because _that _was believable. '_I don't give him much credibility_,' Seto wrote to let Mokuba know that he hadn't gone insane yet. '_The man kidnapped me. Reading what I write does not compare_.'

Seto stopped writing and tapped his pen against the page. What else was there to say? Seto tried to think as though he was Mokuba. What would his brother want to hear more about?

'_But whether or not he reads it does not matter. It is not as though he is blind to my anger or my desperation to get away from him. Nothing I write down is a secret. I either speak my mind or write it down; either way he knows._'

If Seto was actually talking to his brother, he knew that he would have to mention his attempted escape. Mokuba would be shocked if Seto didn't try such a thing, so since Seto had yet to mention it, he did then.

'_I tried to escape_,' Seto wrote. '_Although he never mentioned it to me, I know that he knows it happened. The chain on my ankle is a sign of that._' He stopped again to debate whether or not the chain had been his kidnapper or Jim's idea. To prevent too much confusion, Seto decided not to mention Jim. Seto simply would attribute everything that happened to his kidnapper for the ease of writing. _'A bit medieval, but affective at keeping me in place. Aside from the chain, it is as though my escape attempt never happened._'

Seto thought back to the escape attempt. It felt like it had been months since he tried to break out. The details were already fading from his thoughts, but had been replaced by the one sentence "I failed."

Without realizing it, Seto wrote down the sentence, _'Even I have almost forgotten_.'

That alone made Seto stop writing when he saw it. Had he really blocked out that memory after so short a time? Seto took a moment to run back through his attempt. He worked through every step of his plan, from seeing the fork to being caught by Jim. No, he remembered it all.

That only managed to comfort him in the slightest. He hadn't yet lost his wits, but he nearly had after approximately a week. If he wasn't rescued, how would he feel or think in a few months? What would be more likely to affect him, having to deal with his kidnapper's intentions or being separated from Mokuba?

Seto put the pen back to the page. '_I miss you, kid_.' Seto decided to be somewhat sentimental in the vain hope to comfort Mokuba. '_Every time I wake up, I wonder what you are doing. I try to imagine your daily routine and how you spend your time._'

A noise came from somewhere in the house. Since Seto could hear it, he imagined that it came from somewhere in the hallway. He froze, preparing to throw the notebook down should the door open. But he heard nothing else, so Seto went back to writing.

'_I think about how you are handling things. I try not to think about what he has been doing to you_,' Seto wrote. But of course, the moment the words appeared in his mind, images came along with the thought.

It hadn't been long enough for Gozaburo to give up searching for his heir. Because of that, Seto was fairly certain that he wouldn't have resulted to training Mokuba. What worried Seto was not being found in time to prevent that from happening. Could Mokuba handle being trained by Gozaburo?

Seto didn't even want to think about that happening. He knew firsthand how harsh and violent Gozaburo was whenever he was the slightest bit irritated. Seto knew Mokuba wasn't strong enough to go through the things Gozaburo did to Seto.

_'Right now, I cannot handle that thought_.' Not that he would ever be able to handle it.

Seto scratched the side of his head. There was the question he was asking himself and that Mokuba would certainly be asking, and he decided to write out his reasoning.

'_I don't know what I hope to accomplish by writing you these letters that will go unread. It is such an irrational concept.' _Seto's mind jumped back to the idea of using the remainder of pages to make the paper airplanes._ 'But then, so is my being kidnapped,' _he continued on normally._ 'There is nothing about this situation that is normal. In fact, everything about this situation is quite irrational. I am not kidnapped for ransom or to force Gozaburo's hand. And I know how abnormal that is.'_ Seto wondered if the investigators had realized that Seto hadn't been kidnapped for any typical reason. He shook the thought away.

_'So why not write to you, little brother? Why not say the things to you that I so badly need to say? But I know that I am writing to no one.'_

Seto couldn't help but end on the pessimistic note. He stared at the page he had just written and realized that he felt no better. If anything, all that writing the letter had done was make him feel slightly ridiculous.

For the sake of it, Seto signed his name on the bottom of the page. If he was still thinking of this as a letter to Mokuba, then he would have to go all out.

The page didn't look right though. Seto instantly understood why. He moved the pen from the last line on the page to the top just above where he wrote the letter. There he signed, '_Dear Mokuba.'_

A small smile worked its way onto Seto's lips. He rubbed his hand across his mouth to wipe it away. He hadn't expected that writing Mokuba's name would help his mood.

* * *

><p>Finally the notebook appears. This is the letter from Chapter One of <span>Dear Mokuba<span>.

_Warning_: The next chapter gets darker. Because of that, my update time may be a bit longer. I thank you in advance for your patience.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I'm not a graphic writer. If you are here looking for a rape scene, you just aren't going to find one. I am dealing with Seto's reactions to this situation, not so much the situation itself.

**Warning:** Not detailed rape.

* * *

><p>There was a gleam in his eyes that Seto had never seen before. The man carried on as usual, but something about the way he looked at Seto had changed. No longer did the patient smile sit on his lips. Instead, a predatory expression had taken its place. Seto made sure to keep as far away as the chain would allow him. The short distance did little to comfort him. It wasn't far enough.<p>

The man sat on the bed pretending to read a book. Seto could tell that he was faking since he turned the page about every ten minutes. Also, the man spent more time looking away from the book and over to where Seto sat on the floor than at the pages. Seto was also pretending, but he had no book. Seto stared at the wall across the room, trying to make it seem like he wasn't painfully aware of his kidnapper's every motion. But he was. Seto noticed every sound, every breath, and every twitch. Any time the man glanced over, Seto was certain that he would act.

But up until now, the man had gone back to his book. The alone had Seto on edge. They had been playing their game for what must have been two hours. It was to the point that Seto almost wished he would do something.

Then the man moved and Seto reconsidered. Part of him knew that the man was finally about to - the thought arose and was quickly pushed back down. He didn't want to think about it, but the man clearly planned on doing, _it._ Seto closed his eyes when he realized that his mind associated himself with the word 'it.' He couldn't think like that.

"Seto, must we carry on this way? I'll still get you a book if you will come sit with me," the man said as he closed his book. Seto didn't move or speak. He couldn't decide between ignoring his kidnapper completely or trying to come up with a scathing retort. But he delayed too long in his decision. He was left with only one choice. Seto stayed quiet.

The man put the book down. Seto couldn't help but stare at the man as he crawled over the bed towards Seto. The man reached out for Seto's arm, but Seto saw it coming. He pushed away to prevent being grabbed, but the chain drew taut.

Chills ran up Seto's spine, and for the smallest of moments, his reality froze. The chain took over his vision, growing and growing until it was all he saw. Seto couldn't get away. He couldn't get away. He couldn't fight. He couldn't do anything. He was trapped.

Seto got distracted and failed to see the man finally grab his arm. Seto was pulled up to the bed and even when he was next to his kidnapper, the hold didn't slack.

"There now," the man said. "Isn't that more comfortable?"

The man picked his book back up and flipped to his page. He sat only inches away from Seto, so close that Seto felt the heat radiating from the man's body. 'He is too hot,' Seto realized. The thought brought the chills on once more.

Seto shifted which caused his kidnapper's hand to grow tense, as if ready to stop Seto if he should try to move. Seto knew he could do nothing. He had only been trying to unwrap the chain from where it twisted around his ankle. Seto didn't know why he tried to find any form of comfort. Why bother with anything?

'Because of Mokuba,' Seto thought. If he gave up so soon, then there would be no hope. He had to have hope. Otherwise, what would he have? Seto knew that if he accepted defeat, he would never return to his brother. He couldn't break. What if he was found broken? Would he ever truly return to Mokuba then?

The page turned. Seto wondered what the subject of the book was. He looked to the bookshelf, remembering how he had torn a page out of one of the books. He thought it might be amusing if the book his kidnapper had chosen was the book that had assisted his escape. But looking at the shelf, Seto knew it wasn't the case. It might be one day. Hopefully, Seto would be out by that time. He had to be.

Seto continued to stare at the wall. It was the wall with the door to the hallway. Seto was irritated with the layout of the room. He faced his exit. It sat just ten feet away. But all Seto could do was to look at it. Because of that chain, Seto could no longer even touch it.

The page turned. Seto wanted to know why the man refused to tell him his name. He came up with three reasons concerning the possibilities. The first reason was the kidnapper's fear that Seto would successfully escape and then he would be able to tell law enforcement his identity. If that was the case, it was self-preservation.

It also could be part of the kidnapper's plan to keep Seto disoriented. The less Seto knew, the less likely he would be to try something foolish. The man had yet to tell Seto anything. There were some things, their location, for instance, that Seto didn't bother asking. The man would never tell him that. But it was everything else that, as much as he didn't want to admit it, was affecting Seto. He was tired of thinking of the man in such vague terms as "the man." He wanted to know if he was actually sleeping at night or if his sleeping schedule was off or quite possibly reversed. Seto didn't know the day; he didn't know if he was being searched for; he didn't know why the man wanted him.

Of course, Seto had figured out what the man wanted with him. That was something he had never concealed, though he had yet to specifically say anything. That reasoning Seto would prefer to remain unspoken. It was why the man chose him that Seto didn't understand. Surely it would have been far easier to take any other person. He was a public figure of sorts. Breaking into KaibaCorp had to have taken a great deal of planning. The man must have really wanted him specifically, for whatever reason.

Seto wasn't blind. He knew that physically his face was not unattractive. Gozaburo had hired a mail room employee just to sort through Seto's fan mail. He had fans because of his fame and face.

But Seto saw none of that. He saw the deep red and brown marks that covered his body's hidden surface. Each represented a failure, a shortcoming. Seto couldn't be arrogant about his appearance because his appearance was marred by failure.

The page turned. It brought Seto back to his original thought process - the man's unknown name. There was another reason, Seto knew, that the man kept it a secret. It was the matter of control, of position. He daily demonstrated his power over Seto with the small detail of their names. It was as though his kidnapper was saying that he knew everything about Seto, but Seto knew nothing about him. He managed to reverse Seto's daily outlook of intelligent superiority. Seto had been pulled out of a world where he knew everything and placed into a world where he was ignorant.

Seto hated it. He hated the man for it. He wasn't used to knowing nothing. Seto's mind worked off the knowledge of his surroundings and situation. Without any information, how would his mind work?

Seto thought about his thoughts. He was thinking normally now. His thoughts were rational even though he knew nothing. The thought processes he was thinking all followed a logical chain of thought.

Or did they? If Seto had gone insane, would he notice? Insane thoughts would sound perfectly sane to an insane mind. How could he ever tell that his mind was still his own?

That thought nearly drove Seto into action. What the action was, Seto didn't know. He was afraid - no, Seto thought - _hesitant_ to see his own reaction to the possibility of insanity.

Often times after a particularly rough night at Gozaburo's house, Seto would think on how he could rebel. The rebellions he come up with were never anything severe. They usually revolved around crashing Gozaburo's computer or emptying out the company's finances. He would make it untraceable to himself, of course. Occasionally, Seto contemplated grabbing Mokuba and running. But those were just fantasies to get him through some harder days. Seto knew that Gozaburo had the resources to find them and drag them back. 'Even now,' Seto thought. 'He still does.'

More recently, Seto had been thinking about a more extreme action. It was only a thought, one he could never mention or bring into reality. A few months back, he had a dream that was so vivid, it felt real, though most of his dreams possessed that quality. But in this dream, Seto sat in Gozaburo's chair in the largest office KaibaCorp held. Nothing had changed except the name on the desk.

The dream stayed with Seto. He had spent hours thinking about how he could ever possibly have KaibaCorp to himself. Being seventeen, no one would take him seriously. Seto couldn't hope to run the company for many, many more years. Right?

Seto suddenly realized that the pages stopped turning. It had been a while since he had heard anything from his kidnapper. Seto chose to be daring and turned his head to face the man.

Their eyes met. They were only inches from each other, close enough for Seto to feel the man's sticky breath against his skin. The man's lips were lifted in a twisted smile and Seto knew.

"You have the prettiest eyes," the man said. He brought a finger to Seto's face to trace the area around his cheekbones.

Seto let him while trying to think of some way out of the situation. He had to think. He had to think. He had to stop thinking about thinking and really think.

The man's finger drew a spiral design down to Seto's mouth. That was too much. Seto leaned back. "Don't," he said quietly. His voice lacked the determination he so desperately wanted to exude.

The man let his hand fall into his lap. "Feigning ignorance doesn't suit you, Seto."

The space between them was filled again. He was too close. Seto's mind refused to work in the tight space. It couldn't be happening. None of this could be real.

"Just make this simple," the man said. He wrapped his arms around Seto's waist. Before Seto would react, the man had pulled him onto his lap. Seto instantly brought his hands up to push against his kidnapper, but the man wouldn't relent. He pulled Seto even closer, ignoring the teen's struggles.

"You're being difficult," the man said, this time more harshly. Seto didn't stop, though. He tried to think of any way, anything he could say, to escape. Escaping the room was not a possibility, but he had to do something. He couldn't let the man do this. It couldn't happen.

Seto reached behind his back to try to pull the man's hands off. He was not successful. His kidnapper grabbed his wrists and held them in place.

"Stop," Seto said. He worked in vain to loosen the hold.

"I told you not to give me orders."

The man pushed on Seto's back to bring him in closer. Seto turned his head to face the wall to his right. At the moment, he was looking for anything to focus on that was not his kidnapper. He thought that maybe, if for a moment, he could take his mind off the man, then he could think clearly.

But the man gave him no opportunity. Seto felt the man's thumbs rubbing against his lower back. He felt the man's breaths hitting his face. Seto could hear the low rumble in the back of the man's throat as he moved even nearer. It was too much, too distracting.

"Be a good boy, Seto. Look at Daddy," the man whispered into Seto's ear.

Seto was momentarily thankful for his kidnapper's tight grip on his hands. Without the strength of the hold, Seto was certain that the man would be able to feel his hands trembling.

Seto did the opposite of what his kidnapper said. He closed his eyes, but it wasn't in rebellion. Seto sensed the beginning stages of tears forming. He would not cry. He could not let himself cry. He was Seto _Kaiba._ He didn't earn the name for being weak. Certainly whatever pain he was about to experience would be no worse than anything Gozaburo had inflicted upon him in times past.

It was a lie. Seto knew he was lying to himself. This was a different thing entirely.

The man let out a deep breath. He shifted sideways and gently lowered Seto down to the bed. Seto didn't fight against him; he didn't even open his eyes. What could he do? The best he could hope to accomplish was to prolong the inevitable. Maybe it would just be better to get it over with.

The man laid Seto on his back. He moved Seto's hands to either side of his body as he straddled the teen. Seto didn't focus on any of that. He was more concerned with controlling his breathing to keep from breaking down. If he could just pull his mind away from the situation, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

His kidnapper rubbed small circles on Seto's wrists. Seto had never realized how such a gentle touch could burn so deeply. The longer the man rubbed, the deeper the burning sensation grew.

The man leaned down and pressed the side of his head against Seto's chest. Seto leaned his head away as he vainly attempted to break the man's hold. Seto tugged at his wrists, but failed to break free. Seto's eyes opened without meaning to.

"Why is your heart racing?" the man asked.

"Close proximity to the devil?" Seto suggested, shifting his shoulders in a small struggle.

The man laughed. It was degrading. Seto hated that the man enjoyed his insults, since he felt like he was just encouraging his kidnapper with each one. It was nearly enough to keep him from speaking.

The man lifted his head and looked down at Seto. Seto knew that the expression he was returning bore no traces of strength. He was terrified and there was no way he could hide that. Even his breathing, which he had been fighting to control, gave him away.

From above him came a gentle shushing, as though he had spoken too loud in a library. Seto's jaw closed tightly in anger.

"Will you be good, or do I need to tie your hands up?" the man asked casually. With that tone, he could have been asking for Seto's dinner preferences.

At that moment, it really hit Seto. The man was serious. He was actually going to - Seto still couldn't finish the thought. The man was just _going to_. Nothing Seto could do would stop him.

"Please don't do this," Seto begged, diverting his eyes away from his kidnapper. He couldn't face the man as he gave it his final effort.

"Oh Seto," the man whispered. He removed one of his hands from Seto's and used it to cup Seto's cheek.

Seto tried to look up at the man, but realized that his vision was hazy from tears that were forming. He rolled his eyes up to keep them from spilling over.

"Don't cry, baby," the man said quietly. "It'll be okay."

The man moved his hand from Seto's face. He rested back on his knees so he no longer needed his hands to support himself. He then grabbed both of Seto's hands and lifted them up. The man brought Seto's hands to cover his face.

"You don't have to watch this time."

Seto adjusted his hands to completely restrict his view of the man above him. Perhaps if he couldn't see what was happening, then he might be able to convince himself that it wasn't real.

The buttons of his dress shirt being undone wasn't really happening.

The cold air hitting his bare chest wasn't real either.

The man's hands taking in every inch of his chest wasn't real.

Those same hands sliding down to his waistband weren't real.

His legs weren't shivering against the chilly room.

Knees forcing his legs apart, that wasn't real.

However, Seto couldn't deny that the pain he felt was very, very real.

* * *

><p>In case you haven't noticed, Seto has been denying everything up until this point. He has gone out of his way to avoid thinking about what was going to happen. There is no longer any way for him to pretend it isn't real. Here we begin the decline.<p>

Chapter Six will be up in a week or so.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

_Seto scratched his ankle. He had just managed to break through the chain, though he couldn't quite remember how he had done so. It didn't matter. He finally was able to get away from the bed, and maybe he could get out of the room as well. He had done so once before. How hard could it be do it again?_

_When Seto stood, his foot kicked against the notebook. He had left it sitting on the floor next to the bed. He just didn't remember it being that large. Seto shook his head. He never really gave the notebook much thought. He left it laying there, hopefully never to see it again. _

_Seto tried the door. He was amazed to find that the knob twisted without any resistance. When he pushed, it swung open. Seto wrinkled his forehead in confusion. He was sure that there had been a chain on the other side of the door. _

_There was no time to think about that. If his kidnapper left the door open, then Seto would take advantage of it. He wouldn't let the opportunity to escape go by so easily. Maybe it was a trap. But Seto had no doubts that he could outsmart his kidnapper. _

_Turning around to look behind him, Seto winced. He felt a sharp pain shoot up his back that he hadn't noticed before. His hand moved on reflex to press against his spine. Seto stopped walking towards the staircase. He couldn't move with that level of pain. But, why was he in pain? He couldn't remember why he was hurt. _

_While Seto waited for the pain to pass, he thought. He tried to remember the things that he couldn't remember. Had he been drugged? No, that wouldn't explain why he suddenly lost his memories. There had to be some explanation. Maybe he had hit his head. Or he fell, hitting his head and hurting his back. That would also explain the pain that had dulled to simply a pulsing throb. _

_Seto felt it was safe to continue walking. The stairs had moved up so he was standing directly underneath them. Had there always been that many? Seto quickly counted them. Fifty-six stairs led up to the door. Maybe the first time he tried to escape, he had just been too focused on getting out. That was a likely explanation. _

_As he climbed the stairs, Seto had to stop more than once. The pain in his back kept returning. It hit him with nearly every step. He didn't understand what could have caused pain like what he experienced. He had been abused for years and nothing seemed to compare to the current pain. _

_Seto persevered. He had to get out. He had to get back to Mokuba. His brother was waiting on him. _

_Finally, after what felt like hours, Seto reached the top stair. He took a deep breath before reaching out to grab the knob. How cruel would it be if he made it this far, only to be stopped by the last door? _

_It turned. Seto released the breath and opened the door._

"_Seto!" _

_Seto knew the voice. His eyes locked on Mokuba, who stood directly across from him at the door in the kitchen. Mokuba's eyes lit up upon seeing Seto, and he took off running to meet him. _

_Seto couldn't even move. He didn't understand why Mokuba was in the house. He quickly looked around, making sure his kidnapper hadn't gone after both brothers. But he didn't see his kidnapper, just Mokuba. _

_Mokuba collided into Seto. It brought back the pain, but Seto barely noticed it this time. He threw his arms around Mokuba and fell to his knees so they were closer to the same height. _

"_I was so scared Seto. We couldn't find you anywhere and Gozaburo was nearly ready to give up and-"_

_Mokuba burst into tears. Seto couldn't find the words to calm him down, so he had to settle for hugging his brother. It had been too long. He never wanted to move. After however long it had been, Seto finally felt as though things were going to be okay. He was going to be fine. _

Seto couldn't remember when he woke up. He just became aware that he was no longer asleep, so he let his eyes focus. When they did, he saw his kidnapper sleeping in front of him. Seto then recognized the sensation of something pressing around his waist. He didn't check. He didn't need to. Seto didn't have to think about his kidnapper's arm holding him in place. It was there. Seto couldn't get away.

He remained still. His kidnapper was sleeping, so for a few minutes, Seto was somewhat alone. He was glad he woke up first. He needed the time to collect himself before having to face the man who-

Seto remained still for another reason. His entire body hurt. He hadn't been expecting the level of pain he was experiencing. Seto was used to nightly beatings at Gozaburo's hands. After years of that treatment, Seto thought he was desensitized to pain. But_ this_, this was like nothing he had felt before. It burned from the inside. The fire controlled Seto's every bone, every muscle, even every breath. He had never before been so aware of every inch of his body.

Seto felt like he had a layer of grime stuck to his skin. It itched and oozed into his body to meet with the fire. The combination just made for thicker flames. They were heavy, making Seto heavy. He was a weighty lump of fire. He felt nothing like Seto. Seto, even on his worst of days, could still find a portion of himself to cling to.

Now, he was trapped. Being trapped in the room, in his kidnapper's grip, was nowhere near as terrible as being trapped in this strange body. This thing covered in his scars was not him. Seto was not weak. He was not helpless. He was not this.

This body was breaking down. It was panicking. It was afraid. It was not Seto because Seto couldn't be those things. He was supposed to be strong.

Seto wanted to scratch at the arms, the face, and the legs attached to his mind. The filth that had settled on the body that was not his disgusted Seto. It humiliated him to be locked inside the dirty body. If he had to be kept in it, he at least wanted it clean.

There was the chain to consider. Seto couldn't reach the shower with the short distance he was allowed. In the days before, Jim had let Seto take a shower without the chain, but Jim put it back on the moment Seto left the bathroom. Seto couldn't get there without someone letting him. He would have to ask, but he didn't want to ask. Seto didn't want to speak with the man.

Seto never thought he would want to go home, but he did. Before that moment, he had never even considered Gozaburo's mansion as being his home. But that was where Mokuba was. At least there he could be certain that _this _wouldn't happen. There he had something to do aside from laying in a bed all day.

The man moved. Seto held his breath. He wasn't ready for the man to awaken. He needed time to compose himself. He couldn't face the man with the grime still covering the body. Even though Seto couldn't see the filth, he knew the man certainly could. The man would see and maybe want to do it again. Although Seto held no attachment to this body, he felt the need to keep it clean. He wanted to scrub the stains out.

Seto's mind pulled up the definition of 'stain.' _A discoloration produced by foreign matter having penetrated into a material; a spot not easily removed. _Not easily, but he would find a way to remove the stains. He still felt confident in his ability to recover.

But then he felt the pain the body experienced. He couldn't get away from it. Even if Seto thought he could move away from his kidnapper's hold, he knew he wouldn't be able to. He was in too much pain for that. He cursed the body for being so weak. It had broken too easily.

The man moved, and in doing so, he pulled the strange body closer to his chest. Seto knew the man had woken up, but tried to get the body to move away. It was hopeless. The body was too weak, too fragile to do any good. All pushing away accomplished was to force the man to open his eyes.

"Good morning, Seto," the man said. He didn't waste any time before running his hands along Seto's back and side. Seto wondered if he felt it, if he felt the thick layer of slime on the body's surface. Since the man smiled, Seto felt it safe to assume the man didn't find anything disgusting about the body. Or maybe he simply took pride in what he had done to it.

The man's fingers burned worse than the dirt on the body did. Seto had to fight to prevent the body from squirming away from the touch. He wanted to get away. However, Seto feared that the man might become angry and do it again. Maybe if Seto was clean, the man would be less likely to repeat the previous night's - morning, afternoon? - actions.

Seto opened the mouth to ask for the much needed shower, but the man's fingers jumped to Seto's face. To prevent the man from examining the inside of his mouth, Seto angled his face to bury it down into the bed. The smell of sweat and -

The smell hit him, but it wasn't strong enough to make him look back up at his kidnapper.

The man began to stroke his cheek. There was no more room for Seto to hide, so he endured. The man's thumb ran over his cheekbone, as if scrubbing a spot away. Seto realized that something was stuck to the skin. The body was as dirty as he believed.

That broke Seto's silence. "I need a shower." His words were lightly muffled by the mattress, but his kidnapper heard clearly.

"Of course. Can it wait-"

Seto shook his head before hearing the until when. He couldn't wait.

The man pushed Seto's hair behind his ear. "Okay, let me go get your key."

Before leaving, he pressed his lips to the area next to Seto's eye. He held them in that position for several seconds.

Seto tensed, trying to keep the man from feeling the tremors that shot through the body. But when the shivers came to a momentary pause, Seto's heart picked up, beating at around the same rate as the tremors had been shaking the body before.

When the man left the bed, Seto covered the rest of his face with a hand. The tremors returned, and this time, Seto let them come in full force. He squeezed his eyes tightly together, as if that would make the situation around him fade.

The hand that wasn't covering his face went to pull at his hair. That subtle pain was a welcome distraction from the pain elsewhere.

Seto heard the man coming closer. Seto didn't move because there was no point. The cursed chain around his ankle kept him at his captor's complete mercy. It held the body prisoner. Even his mind felt its effect.

He tried to bring his feet up when the man pulled the blankets off of them. The room was colder than Seto remembered. The chain kept one of Seto's legs in the man's reach, but the man did nothing more than remove the chain. Then Seto brought that leg up too. Seto heard something clinking, but assumed it was the chain hitting the floor.

The man laughed. "Don't you want a shower?"

Seto did try, but he couldn't move. He seemed locked in the position. He could still feel the ooze of the heavy flames, but even that wasn't enough motivation to reveal himself to his kidnapper.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Seto jumped in reaction. Once he moved, Seto had no problem pushing himself away from the man, even with the pain that met him. He crawled backwards, but stopped suddenly when the blanket fell away from his body.

Seto looked down and immediately grabbed the blanket to cover himself. He glanced across the room and saw his pants laying near the door.

"Come now, Seto. You wouldn't wear them in the shower anyways."

"I-" Seto started, but he was too focused on his serious lack of clothing.

He then remembered that his shirt was still hanging loosely on the body. It was open, but he dropped the blanket to pull the shirt together over the chest.

"I saw you last night," the man reminded him.

The shock of the statement made Seto turned to stare at his captor. But instead of seeing the man, he saw a pair of handcuffs.

The man twirled them around on his finger, and Seto slightly shook his head. Was the man mocking him on top of all else?

The situation was too much for Seto. He felt the initial stages of a panic attack building up, but knew he would feel even worse if he had such a break down. To combat it, he just stopped. Seto took a deep breath to help clear his mind. The shower would help him feel better. At that moment, he was willing to do whatever it took to get clean.

While keeping the blanket over his lap, Seto slid towards the man. He continued his deep breathing in an attempt to put the pain he experienced in the back of his mind. He had always been good at compartmentalizing. This was just a different kind of challenge.

Seto's kidnapper must have noticed the effort it took for him to move as he said, "I can carry you in there."

Seto frowned and shook his head. There was no way he would ever resort to that. If he could handle going to school and work after a night of abuse at Gozaburo's hand, then he could certainly get himself to the bathroom.

But when Seto got to the edge of the bed, he froze again. He was running out of space where he could stay covered. He tried to be rational by telling himself that once he was in the bathroom, he couldn't be covered anyway. The logic didn't help.

"Seto?" the man said. His tone sounded so amused.

Seto hated being his entertainment. The man took joy in his struggles.

That gave Seto the motivation that he needed. He adjusted his shirt to cover his lap as he laid the blanket aside. Seto knew that when he stood, the hem of his shirt would barely cover him.

The man glanced down and Seto looked away. He just went back to holding the shirt around him. The quiet was hitting Seto's mind as much as if he was being screamed at.

"Now may I take a shower?" Seto asked. He didn't like asking permission for something as simple as a shower, but he needed it badly.

"Let's go," the man said. He offered Seto a hand, which Seto just ignored. His hands were otherwise occupied.

Shaking his head, the man walked into the bathroom. Seto hesitated and turned to look at the door. It couldn't be locked. But like all the other times before, Seto knew he couldn't get away. Running in his condition would be impossible.

Seto wasn't able to push himself up, but he still tried. He refused to move his hands from his shirt, which greatly hindered his efforts. But his legs felt so weak that he just couldn't do it. His eyes closed as he tried to force his body to heal. Maybe with enough willpower, Seto could find away to get up on his own.

But he wasn't given the chance. His kidnapper reentered the room to grab onto his arm and pull him to his feet.

One of Seto's hands lowered to try to cover himself. His shirt wasn't long enough.

"Who would have thought you were shy?"

Seto was so disgusted with the man that he couldn't bear to look at him. He kept his gaze down, focusing on the floor.

"Don't be sad, Seto. No," the man said. He leaned down to rest his forehead on Seto's shoulder. Seto just turned his head away, trying to wait it out. He pressed his lips together as the man started nuzzling against his neck. Seto wanted to push away, but that would force him to drop his tight grip on his shirt.

Seto took a shaky breath when his kidnapper finally moved away. When the sound of his breath reached his ears, it nearly brought tears to Seto's eyes. His weakness was so pathetic.

"Come on," the man said. He ended the order with a quiet series of clicking noises. Seto couldn't help but hear it as a dog command. Yet, he followed along anyways.

The bathroom floor was cold. Seto shifted between feet, trying to keep moving, though the movements were slight, in order to prevent them from getting too cold. His kidnapper had walked to the shower and was adjusting the knobs, leaving Seto standing near the doorway. While waiting for the water to heat, Seto considered taking the step back to stand on the warmer carpet, but couldn't move backwards. He was so close to being clean.

"Sit down," the man said. He straightened his back, having been bent over to reach the knobs, and pointed to the toilet. The cover was down, but Seto just stared at it. Why couldn't he just get in the shower? His skin had begun burning to the point that Seto accepted the fact that it was his. He couldn't imagine that being trapped in a stranger's body would bring about the intense feelings that he experienced. The weaknesses were his, and he needed to scrub them away.

"Sit," the man said more forcefully. When Seto still didn't move, the man moved towards him.

Seto, wary of the handcuffs, stepped to the side. In doing so, he allowed his kidnapper to close the door. The mirror began to fog.

"I'm hungry. I can wait until after we've eaten for a shower. Either sit down or we are leaving."

Seto heard the command first. Because of the threat involved, he sat down. But soon after, he caught on to the other part of what the man said. He included himself in talking about the shower.

Before Seto had the chance to question him, the man began to pull his shirt over his head. Seto's gaze fell to his lap. He distracted himself by trying to better conceal himself. The distraction wasn't enough. Seto knew the moment that the man was fully undressed, but still tried to keep from looking in his direction. He moved his attention to the small amounts of sweat that collected on his skin due to the heat of the shower.

The man knelt down in front of Seto. He reached forward to take Seto's hands in his own. Seto resisted, holding on more tightly to his shirt.

"Seto, let go."

"Why can't I just go in?" Seto asked. He didn't bother with questions about whether or not the man planned to get in with him.

"This will help you get used to me," the man said, still trying to coax Seto's hands away from his last article of clothing.

Seto tried to lean back, but was met with a pain running through his lower back. That small moment gave the kidnapper the opportunity to break Seto's grip. Then, Seto couldn't regain his ground, and he lost the battle to keep covered.

For the first time, Seto was completely naked before his kidnapper. What he didn't expect was the man to only look at his chest. After what had happened the night before, Seto would have assumed it would trigger something unwanted. He wouldn't have guessed that the man would just frown at the deep marks that were littered across his chest. One of the man's fingers traced a scar. Seto tried to control his breathing while the man could feel each inhale and exhale.

"I don't want to," Seto said.

The man quit examining Seto's scars and picked up his left wrist. He had dropped the handcuffs on the floor while he undressed, and he quickly picked them up. Seto didn't bother resisting as the man snapped one end on his wrist. He wanted it all to just be over. Resisting would only cause delays.

After helping Seto stand, the man took Seto's other hand. But instead of attaching the other end of the cuffs, he held Seto's hand out far to the side. The result had Seto forced forward, while the man leaned in even more. Seto watched the man's face, trying to figure out what he was planning. That however, proved to be a mistake, as the man took advantage of Seto facing him to press their lips together.

Seto reacted by turning his head away. But in doing that, his attention faltered. In a quick movement, his kidnapper brought the open end of the cuffs around his own back where it met Seto's free wrist. It was too late to pull back. Seto found that his hands were trapped by a short chain, connected behind the man. Seto tried to make space between them, but could only find a few inches of slack. Even that had his hands pressed against the man's bare sides.

"But you will," the man said with a smile.

Seto wanted to scream. Why couldn't he just be allowed to shower by himself? Was it so difficult for the man to give him a few minutes to recover? Instead, Seto was trapped in a mock hug with his kidnapper, with his hands caught in a position where he wouldn't be able to wash away the filth.

Seto bit down on his tongue, trying not to beg to be released. They were too close. Any time they inhaled simultaneously, their bodies touched. Seto knew that once in the shower, they would be even closer. But he wouldn't beg.

"Step with me, Seto." After the order, the man began to walk towards the shower. Seto had no choice but to move with him. He surrendered his hands, allowing them to touch the man's skin, in order to keep the rest of them from contact. The man, however, had no problems bumping against Seto. He purposefully pushed himself forward as they stepped over the edge of the tub.

The water was too hot, and Seto flinched. When he did, it drove him against the man as he tried to get out from under the scalding temperature. But when he realized what he had done, Seto tried to move away, only to subject his skin to the blistering water once more. There was no safe location.

"I'm sorry. Too hot?"

Seto was surprised that the man sounded genuinely concerned. He was forced under the water, however, when the man leaned down to adjust the knobs. Seto gritted his teeth and held back any reactions to the intensity of the heat. The water hit against his face, and Seto wrinkled up his face to combat some of the pain.

The man laughed. "You look cute like that."

The temperature slowly shifted into a cooler one. Seto's muscles relaxed somewhat, as much as they could with his kidnapper in such close proximity. The man straightened up, allowing Seto to get his head out of the water.

"Is that better?" the man asked. When Seto didn't answer, he pressed. "If you don't tell me, I'll put it back at the temperature I prefer."

"It's better," Seto said quietly.

"That's good. That's good," the man said. He then placed his palm on Seto's cheek to position his head underneath the spray of water. The man then reached down to pick up a bottle.

"You look so sexy with your hair wet."

Seto shook his head slightly as water dripped into his eyes. It was hard to keep the water from running down since his hair was matted against his forehead. He tried to avoid looking up as his kidnapper began to rub the shampoo through his hair.

Seto was impatient. The water just hitting him was doing nothing to clean him off. He didn't care whether or not his hair was clean, but that seemed to be all his kidnapper was focused on. Seto just wanted to scrub his skin until he bled. He wouldn't have to worry about the blood since the water would wash it away.

But he could do nothing else than just stand there and wait for the man to stop touching him. It was agonizing. He kept his eyes closed to keep the shampoo out, but more importantly, to keep any tears sustained. He knew they were threatening to spill, and having the water of the shower as a cover would provide the perfect opportunity. He wouldn't do that. Opportunity or not, he would not cry.

The man pushed Seto's head back to rinse his hair out. Seto tried not to hope that the man would finally get around to clearing off some of the grime that had taken over Seto's skin. It was too much to hope.

The man took a rag that hung over the railing and ran it through the water. Seto opened his eyes to watch that part. He hoped that if he watched, he could see his skin get cleaner.

But the man just rubbed it gently across his skin. Seto knew that it would do nothing. The man was just humoring him in the cruelest manner possible.

Seto reclosed his eyes and tried to get away. Not physically, but he made the attempt to pull his mind away from the situation. Maybe if he could escape there, he would be able to avoid recognizing what was happening. He could leave for a few minutes, or at least, until it was over.

Seto couldn't find any image that captured his attention. Not even thinking of Mokuba worked, since doing so associated his baby brother with the disgusting man he was chained to. The best Seto could manage was to think of math problems and solve them in his head. That required focus, though not enough to fully escape the man's touch. Seto still felt each movement, and he flinched any time the man's hand dropped too low.

The rest of the shower progressed in the same manner. Seto's kidnapper never applied enough force to do any actual cleaning, only as a show. When the water was turned off, Seto felt just as dirty as he did before.

Seto made the mistake of looking the man in the eyes. There was no question: he knew what he had done.

"Feel better?" the man asked.

Seto didn't answer. He just lowered his head and watched as the water dripped from his hair and fell to his feet.

* * *

><p><strong>To My Readers:<strong>

I want to take a moment to apologize for the delay. There is a long version of what happened, but I will leave you with the short. I had written this chapter out by hand back in April. Unfortunately, finals came up and I couldn't type it. Then I went home for the summer, leaving the notebook with this chapter at school.

There you have it. I didn't want to try to rewrite it, since I remember it as being so much better in the original version. But events occurred which changed my summer plans. I had been planning to go back to my apartment over the summer, but now I'm not. Since I kept you waiting long enough, I figured I'd just go for the rewrite.

I am very sorry for keeping you waiting. Thank you to all who have remained patient. Though I don't respond to reviews, I appreciate them all.

The next chapter will return to the letters.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

* * *

><p>The door stood open. Seto glared at the entrance with every ounce of loathing he could force into his expression. Never had an inanimate object mocked him with such fervor as the door did.<p>

The chain on his ankle had never felt heavier.

Seto wanted to look away. He really did. He already had decided that when he heard the man returned, he would divert his gaze. But until then, he found his eyes locked on the exit. The man left it open on purpose. He was gauging Seto's reaction.

Seto chose not to react. He stayed seated on the bed in the exact position he had been in when his kidnapper left the room the few minutes before. From the moment the man went upstairs, Seto had frozen in place. Figuring out his kidnapper's game had been simple. Playing a strong opposition was hard.

His body still hurt. The angle at which his back was currently stuck only added to his discomfort. His strategical skills were off. He should have taken his position into account before choosing to remain motionless. It was a mistake that a few weeks ago, he never would have made.

The glare the door received grew darker. _A few weeks, _Seto thought bitterly. The time frame was approximate since the kidnapper liked to confuse Seto's sense of time. But Seto had started to keep track of the days in the notebook by making small tally marks on the last page. He had gotten to fifteen since that night.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks had passed since that night. That night had happened two weeks ago. Seto couldn't find a way to phrase the thought that made it any better.

It was by the nights that Seto counted the days. His kidnapper made a habit of sleeping next to him in the bed. Seto couldn't keep track of how long the man stayed, but he just assumed that it was overnight. That made fifteen times that Seto shared the bed with the man. Seto had just marked the day in the notebook, so it sat on the bed beside him.

Seto wanted to shake his head or rub his eyes, but that would mean giving up the position he had fought so hard to maintain. He itched with the desire to move.

Without moving his head, Seto looked up when he heard the thunder. He didn't know why he thought looking up would make any difference. He couldn't see the storm that had been shaking the house all morning. All that Seto ended up seeing was the ceiling. But for some reason, his eyes stayed looking up.

Then again, anything was better than staring at the door.

There were some sounds that Seto couldn't place. He debated whether or not the quieter noises were thunder or footsteps. Both sounded the same from his position below them. Only sometimes could Seto actually tell a difference. And those were the times that the thunder shook the walls and made the chain hit against the leg of the bed.

He did recognize the footsteps coming down the stairs. Seto broke his gaze on the ceiling when his kidnapper walked in, carrying a bowl. Seto's eyes then locked on to him and followed him as he walked over to the desk.

"I brought you some oatmeal," the man said. "You know how gross it gets when it is cold, so, eat up."

"I can't reach the desk," Seto said.

"Oh, of course. I'll bring it over if you ask me nicely."

"I'm not hungry."

"Says the boy who hasn't eaten since yesterday morning," his kidnapper said.

Seto hadn't realized that it had been that long. Perhaps it was the nagging depression that wanted to overtake his mind that made him lose his appetite. It was either that, or the fact that all of his meals were associated with his kidnapper, which was a disgusting enough thought that it translated into the food. Either way, Seto wasn't interested in eating.

He had started a letter to Mokuba earlier that morning. Once he finished it, the letter would be the fourth he had written. So far, all he had written was _Dear Mokuba. _Seto stared at his brother's name. He did so for a while, trying to hold on to the only familiar thing in the room. He did it for that reason, and to give his eyes something to look at besides the man.

Even though Seto hated using the notebook while his kidnapper was in the room, he decided to go on with the letter. So he picked up the notebook and set it in his lap. He clicked the pen and began.

_It is storming outside. '_It is storming inside too,' Seto thought. There came a sound from above him, but it was quiet enough that Seto knew it was just Jim. The guard was likely shuffling his feet across the floor. _Although I cannot see the rain, I can hear it on the roof. _Or just Jim's feet on the floor that was Seto's ceiling. Seto didn't change it. It sounded better the way he had written it.

He drummed his fingers over the blanket covering his legs. The quiet, muffled taps sounded like raindrops. Seto continued the action, waiting for another round of thunder so the storm would sound complete. The weather matched his mood, and Seto wanted to revel in his minute connection with the rest of the world.

He could feel his kidnapper watching him. The man always watched. His gaze was a weight on Seto's chest. He could feel it pinning him down. _But I can hear the thunder and feel it shake the house._

"What would you do if I took the blanket?" his kidnapper asked. Seto glanced over to see his kidnapper looking at his fingers playing on the surface.

"Freeze," Seto stated.

"It isn't so cold down here."

"Says the man who has clothes," Seto said, mimicking the man's words from before.

Like Seto expected, his kidnapper smiled. "Would you prefer I took them off?" the man asked.

Seto closed his eyes as another burst of thunder shook the house. His fingers stopped moving. The thunder must have shaken his heart too, because it had begun to beat in an unnatural rhythm. He even had to regulate his breathing, since each breath he released came out like a shaky gust of wind. The heavy breaths shook his spine, sending shocks of pain through his nerves.

"Unfortunately, I have business to attend to," the man said. Seto didn't open his eyes, but heard him moving closer. "So I can't stay."

The effects of the thunder blew over. Seto dared to open his eyes once he knew his kidnapper stood only an arm's length away.

"I will be back for dinner. Goodbye, Seto."

The man leaned down, and Seto scooted to the other end of the bed. He had just enough slack on the chain to allow him to do so, though it did force him to keep that leg extended.

The man leaned back up. "Alright then. You can just make it up to me tonight."

And he left. This time, he closed the door. Seto hated the soft noise of the locks sliding into place.

_I know how much you hate storms. _Seto continued. _But I find myself happy to hear it. '_The real one,' Seto thought. Not the figurative one he had created. _For the first time since I have been here, I feel as though I have some contact with the outside world. _Even if the only contact is through a small trace of information. Seto sincerely hoped that Jim wasn't simply listening to something with loud bass. _I know what is happening on the other side of the walls. _Seto decided to go with the idea that it was in fact, storming. And of course, since he was in a basement, the other side of the walls would be dirt, but he didn't want to bog Mokuba down with the details.

_It is not much contact, but it is enough to give me some manner of comfort. _Comfort. Seto debated crossing that part out. The word was all that he focused on for a while. Where was the comfort in his brother being afraid and him being trapped by the man who covered him with filth?

Seto moved into a more comfortable position on the bed, as though that made his previous sentence true. He laid on his stomach with his chained ankle hanging over the edge of the bed. Then he went on.

_Since I don't know where I am - _aside from a cold basement - _I cannot say that you are sitting through the same storm. I like to think that you are, although that would make you scared right now. _Seto looked back up to Mokuba's name, as if that would will him to be less afraid. Seto knew he was being selfish, hoping that Mokuba was under the same storm cloud, but that didn't change his mind.

_I say that because if you hear the same thunder as me, I haven't been taken far. If I haven't been taken out of the city, shouldn't that make it easier to find me? _If they hadn't found him by now, it would likely not happen. There was usually a two day window to recover a missing child. 'Not a child,' Seto thought, interrupting his own train of thought. 'Never a child.'

_And there is my typical wishful thinking that I feel compelled to include in every letter. I'll move on. _The last two letters had been so sappy. They centered so much around being found, since that was all that Seto's dreams seemed to focus on. They didn't sound like him. Then again, he talked so little now, he was losing track of what he actually did sound like. Maybe when he got out, he would indeed speak like the sentimental letters that he wrote.

_What do you do during storms now? Do you still run to my bedroom? _Seto smiled when he remembered all the times he would be woken up during a storm. Not by the storm itself, which Seto had no problems sleeping through, but by Mokuba crawling into the bed with him. _I wouldn't mind if you did. I miss those nights, even if we did get in trouble every time. _Mokuba likely didn't know, or at least, he wasn't supposed to know, the extent of Seto's punishment. Mokuba had simply been confined to his room. Seto had been confined to Gozaburo's room.

_I never liked you getting scared, but I like that you still needed me. _Seto paused after writing the sentence. There was a shift of tenses between his verbs. He wondered if on some subconscious level, that had been on purpose. _I had no way to protect you against the weather, but you seemed to believe I could. _Not just the weather, but from everything. There was always a storm cloud in the Kaiba house. Seto had tried to make certain that Mokuba never noticed it.

_But now, it has been so long that I worry you won't need me at all when I get back. _If it took too long to be rescued, then Mokuba would have grown stronger. _I am certain that you are developing a strong sense of independence just as I did while living under Gozaburo's roof. He has most likely started training you, but I hope he is taking a different approach than he did with me. _He couldn't be taking the same approach. Treating Mokuba like Seto would never work. Gozaburo had to know that. As close as Seto and Mokuba were, they were completely different when it came to education. The same method would not work on both of them.

_I tell myself that you are fine. The only thing you have to fear is the storm. '_The literal one,' Seto mentally added.

_-With confidence in you,  
><em>_Seto Kaiba_

Seto closed the notebook. He shook his head before putting it back in his hiding place. It was ridiculous that he thought he needed to hide the notebook, but if his kidnapper ended up reading the letters, it would kill him. So Seto kept it underneath where he slept on the mattress.

It was then that Seto realized he had been sitting on the wrong side of the bed. That brought back his kidnapper's words about what would happen later that night. His eyes fell to the untouched bowl on the desk.

Even though Seto couldn't actually hear it, he was certain that another round of thunder had just gone off.

* * *

><p>Dearest Readers,<br>As is becoming common practice for me, I apologize for the delay. This is the eighth draft of this chapter, and I'm sure if I don't post now, I will continue to change it. Thanks for sticking with me during my long update periods. I cannot say when Chapter Eight will be updated, but I hope it will not take me as long as this chapter.  
>-With gratitude,<br>Bounced


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven:**

* * *

><p>"Happy Birthday!"<p>

Seto did his best not to respond. He pressed his face deeper into the mattress. If he stayed still, maybe the man would think he was asleep.

Then Seto realized that he had moved when the man spoke, so feigning unconsciousness was no longer an option. Even though Seto knew that the man knew he was awake, he still considered staying still. His kidnapper should know that Seto was making a clear decision to ignore him.

But Seto sat up, thinking through the connotations of the man's words. He held the blanket against his chest and looked at the cake his kidnapper carried. Eighteen candles flickered on top.

"Is it really my birthday?"

"Would I have gone through the trouble of baking if it wasn't?"

The man set the cake down on the desk. Seto had never been more grateful. Not for the cake, which Seto wrinkled his nose at the sight of, but because he knew the date. Seto wasn't sure exactly how the man discovered when his birthday was, but Seto knew now that it had been almost two months. He had been in this room, on the bed, for two months.

Seto's ankle felt heavy.

"I don't know what your favorite flavor is, so I went with chocolate."

Seto didn't answer. He watched the flames burning down the candles. Small drops of brightly colored wax rolled off.

"How do you know my birthday?" Seto asked once the man had finished messing with the tray.

"I know everything about you."

Seto almost rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the claim. He didn't, not wanting to show unnecessary immaturity, but he really wanted to.

"Everything but my distaste for chocolate."

The man smiled. "I lied. It's vanilla."

Seto bit his lip. He should have known that his kidnapper was thinking ahead. Of course Seto was predictable enough to cut down whatever flavor the man named first. Seto would have to be less obvious in the future.

Closing his eyes, Seto inwardly groaned. After two months, he was picturing his future here. He needed to – had to – stop thinking that way. To keep up a positive outlook, Seto needed to focus on getting out, on better times.

The man walked over to the foot of the bed and patted it. "Sit down here."

"I don't want cake."

"You're eating it anyways." He patted the bed again.

Seto leaned back against the headboard. Behind his kidnapper, the candles began to burn out. Seto leaned his head to the side and gave the cake a pointed gaze.

The man turned around to look at what held Seto's attention. He released an exaggerated sigh. "Well, now you don't get your wish."

When Seto still didn't move, the man knelt down. Seto heard a jangling sound, then tried to find something to grab a hold of. He was too late. His kidnapper had picked up the other end of the chain and began tugging on it.

It jerked Seto onto his back. Seto's hands still found no grip, and he couldn't prevent being dragged to the end of the bed. Seto could only take comfort in the fact that the blankets came down with him.

His knees were past the bed's end when the man stopped pulling. He let go of the chain and Seto pushed up into a sitting position. Seto glared at the man.

"You could have moved yourself," the man said. He went back to the desk and picked up a knife from the tray. He began cutting a piece. While he did, Seto adjusted the blanket so that he was completely covered. He brought his legs up and crossed them underneath the blanket. The room was freezing.

The man lifted the tray slightly off the table. He pulled a plate out from under it. He picked up the slice of cake and dropped it on the plate. The man carried it over to Seto.

"Happy Birthday, dear."

The man sat down next to Seto. He sat too close, and Seto scooted aside. Seto stared straight ahead, at the door that the man didn't close again. He taunted Seto with every action.

"Come on, Seto. I'm trying to give you a nice birthday."

"No. You're not." Seto's jaw clenched.

"How so?"

"You're just _toying _with me."

The man reached up and began twirling a piece of Seto's hair. Seto didn't bother leaning out of it. His body tensed as long as the fingers were in his hair.

"It's your birthday. Relax."

Seto didn't.

"I'm not toying with you, Seto. I do want to be nice. You're not letting me."

"You couldn't have expected anything else." Seto started shaking due to the man's prolonged touch. The man's fingers moved out of Seto's hair and down to his cheek. Seto felt his skin grow frigid, like small needles were piercing him from the inside.

"I can prove it to you. I'll give you your birthday wish, even without the candles." The man pulled his hand away. "Anything you want." A finger returned to Seto's face and directed his gaze to meet his kidnapper's. "Within reason."

Seto lifted his chin to get away from the man's touch. The futility of the wish was evident. Nothing Seto wanted would be provided. The man wouldn't let him go. He wouldn't take off the chain. He wouldn't give him back his locket. He wouldn't let him contact Mokuba.

But it would be foolish to let an opportunity to improve his situation slide by. The problem was determining what fell into the "within reason" category. It probably only related to small things, a book or something just as pointless. Seto couldn't help but want to see how much room his kidnapper would give him. Then, Seto decided to determine it literally.

"A longer chain."

The man's jaw dropped a bit. "Really? Seto, that's so much less than I expected you to ask for. Of course I can do that for you."

He kissed Seto's neck. Seto froze until the lips left his skin. He squeezed his eyes closed until he saw bright flashes.

"And I feel like the best thing I can give you today is privacy." The man stood up, leaving the cake on the bed. He walked to the bookshelf and grabbed a book from the top row. He tossed it to Seto. "Happy Birthday." The man left, and Seto listened to the locks being put in place.

Seto looked down at the cake. He contemplated throwing it to the floor. There was no way that he was going to eat it. Gozaburo never allowed sugar in Seto's diet, so he didn't think he would be able to eat even half of it without getting sick. And he still refused to eat anything his kidnapper brought him. The man must have caught onto that fact, since Jim brought almost all of Seto's meals.

Instead of tossing the cake down, he just scooted up to the headboard. He carried the book with him. There was no reason to be spiteful to the book.

Seto nearly laughed when he realized that this wasn't his worst birthday. The year before, he had been locked in his bedroom with the order to summarize three full length novels, each written in a different language. And while this year, he was still locked in a room, he had no assignments. He could read a book just for the sake of reading. His kidnapper had at least acknowledged his birthday.

Seto smiled when he remembered the card Mokuba wrote for him. It had been a list of Mokuba's favorite moments with Seto. Mokuba had come up with a list of ten, ranging from a night that Mokuba ran up to Seto's room after having a bad dream, to Seto defending him at the orphanage home. Seto kept the card hidden inside a textbook. He wished he had the card now.

Seto never gave Mokuba a similar list. He always meant to, but never had the time. He knew which moment with Mokuba was his most cherished. It was just a matter of not making time to share it.

Leaning over the side of the bed, Seto lifted up the mattress and pulled out the notebook. He made the mistake before of not telling Mokuba. He wouldn't do it again.

Seto opened the notebook and flipped through the letters he had written. He stopped turning on the first blank page and put the pen to the paper.

_Dear Mokuba, _

_Remember that time we sneaked out of the house really late? Were weren't actually going anywhere, but we wanted to watch that meteor shower?_

Mokuba had run up to Seto before dinner and told him how his science teacher said there would be a meteor shower, and told Mokuba he just had to watch it. Mokuba hadn't been interested in it for scientific purposes, but he saw it as an opportunity to make dozens of wishes. It was a cute, childish desire. Seto couldn't say no.

Gozaburo didn't just allow Seto to go out at night, so Seto didn't bother to ask permission. He picked the lock on his room door and crossed the mansion to Mokuba's room. Mokuba had been up waiting.

_We just laid in the backyard for hours. We didn't even talk. _Seto didn't talk. He laid next to his baby brother and listened as Mokuba mumbled his wishes with every meteor.

_That was my favorite night we spent in the mansion. Even the fact that I was punished extensively for it hasn't detracted from my enjoyment of that night. _Seto remembered every painstaking moment of the following day. He looked down at the faint, dotted scars on his right arm, one for every minute he spent out of his room.

_We so rarely had time completely alone like that. I knew when we moved into the mansion that I wouldn't be able to be the brother I wanted to be, so times like that were always important. We should have done that more often._ Seto regretted every moment that he spent away from his brother. Now that he had been locked away, Seto hated how little time he had received with his brother.

_I don't think you ever really understood how much my life revolved around you. Ever since mom and dad died, I made it my goal to ensure you would always be provided for._ Even if Mokuba never discovered the extent that Seto went through, Seto would have continued if not for his kidnapping. He had wanted all the best for Mokuba, from the moment he saw his brother in his mother's dying arms.

_There would have been other families to adopt the two of us, but none would have been able to give you what Gozaburo could. _Seto knew that Mokuba was receiving an elite education. Mokuba would be given the best of everything. The price for that was Seto. He had always been willing to pay.

_As long as I knew you would never have to worry about having a home and money, I could handle anything._ Seto's hand hovered as he ended the line. It was past tense. He used to be able to handle anything. But now . . .

_But now, I have no way of knowing if you are okay. The thought weighs heavy on my mind. Are you safe, Mokuba? _Seto mouthed the question as he wrote it. _Have you taken my place as heir to KaibaCorp? _Seto sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. After only two months, Gozaburo couldn't have given up. He couldn't. Gozaburo put too much time into Seto's training to push it aside so quickly. He had spent five years on Seto, almost six now; those years were valuable.

When Seto tried to imagine Mokuba taking his place, his mind drew up the image of Mokuba's sleep-red eyes staring down stacks of textbooks. He couldn't even picture Mokuba handling the work load.

_I can imagine how much you would hate the hours of study, then normal school work, and barely any sleep. To make it worse, you hate coffee, so you wouldn't even have that to lean on. I miss coffee._

Seto knew his last statement was ridiculous, but he left it. Instead of marking it out, he went along with the foolishness. _I miss almost everything about my old life. Mostly you, but some other things too. Coffee is probably ranked second, then technology. No my_

Seto nearly wrote the word "clothes" down, but even in a mock letter to Mokuba, he wanted to leave out certain information. He changed it to: _own clothing would be third, then technology. _That sounded more casual, less like Seto was chained naked to a bed.

Seto heard the door in the basement open and hurriedly wrote the remainder of the letter. _I miss that night when we watched the meteors. If you see any falling stars, make a wish for me. _

_-Seto Kaiba_

Clipping the pen to the notebook, Seto hid them under his legs as he heard the chain on the door being slid.

Jim walked in. He looked at Seto with the same, bored expression he continually wore, then at the cake. "He got you a cake?"

"It's my birthday, apparently."

Jim nodded. "How old?"

"Eighteen."

Walking over to the bed, Jim picked up the untouched slice of cake. "Welcome to adulthood."


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine:**

"You look sick, Seto."

Seto wanted to respond, but as he searched for the right words, he found that there were none. He just had no energy. Looking for a snarky comeback felt draining. It was almost like thinking required too much thought, if that was possible.

"Jim says you haven't been eating."

Seto frowned. He hadn't? Since he didn't feel up to thinking, Seto just assumed the man to be correct. He didn't remember when his last meal had been. He didn't remember Jim going and coming. How could he have been that unaware?

"Please, Seto. I need you to eat something."

The man dropped to his knees and waved his hand in front of Seto's face. Seto imagined hitting it away, but then realized that if he tried his kidnapper would just grab onto his wrist. Seto didn't want that. He held his arms close to his chest, absentmindedly scratching at his neck. Seto had felt a great deal of absentmindedness over the last few days.

"Anything you want. Just tell me any kind of food and I will get it for you. Jim can get it for you if you want. Just eat something."

A slap drew Seto's gaze up. He felt his eyes grow wide as he stared at the man in front of him. An unknown reflex brought Seto's hand to his face. It was a mild sting, and at any other time, Seto would have ignored it. The shock of the hit left Seto frozen. Aside from the scattered _events, _Seto's kidnapper hadn't hurt him.

The man placed his hand over Seto's. Seto felt ice running through the veins in his hand, but he left it against his cheek. His lips tried to form words, but found none. Seto couldn't work out a different reaction.

"I'm sorry. I don't-" The man exhaled.

He lowered his hand to Seto's chest and began to trace a scar on Seto's collarbone. Seto kept still and let the man's fingers wander over his scars. The blanket covered Seto only from the waist down. It hadn't followed him off the bed correctly. When Seto moved to the floor, he never bothered to fix it.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I just need you to snap out of it."

Seto dropped his hand, pushing his kidnapper's hands away in the process. It must have been enough of a response, because the man didn't hit him again. Seto stayed tense, but didn't move away.

"Please, Seto. Tell me what you want. Anything, and I will get it for you."

Seto closed his eyes just long enough to get a hold on his breath, then met his kidnapper's gaze. He breathed in through his nose, which sounded too close to sniffling.

"I want to go home." Seto spoke as steadily as he could. In the months he had been hidden away in the basement, Seto had never once stated that desire. He felt it went without saying, and he never considered Gozaburo's house as his home. But Seto found himself tired of being analytical. He knew there was no point to fighting the man kneeling in front of him. He just wanted it to be over.

Seto watched the emotion on his kidnapper's face shift from desperation to anger. The man's jaw set with a firm bite, and he reached behind Seto's head to grab his neck. He pulled Seto forward until Seto's vision blurred. Seto kept his eyes locked on the man's.

"You aren't going anywhere," the man said. He spoke in a low volume, but each word carried its own force. A shadow had fallen over the man's face, darkened by the downward tilt of his gaze.

"You can't keep me here forever." Having to breathe felt oppressive.

The man's mouth parted open before he spoke, just long enough to make it look like he changed what he planned to say. The hand on Seto's neck grew rigid. "Is that so? How can you still underestimate me?"

Seto saw the subtle twitches that appeared all over the man's face. The man tried to uphold his usual calm persona, but the illusion was beginning to crack.

Seto held the eye contact, but did nothing more. The man's question had no answer. Seto's statement had been hopeful thinking based in the reality of his dreams and not that of the basement room.

The man shook his hand, shaking Seto's head in the process. "Come on, Seto. Can't you give me an answer? Where are all of your pitiful comebacks today?"

Not even Gozaburo had called Seto pitiful. But Gozaburo had never seen Seto pressed into the corner between the wall and the bed. Gozaburo never saw the blanket that Seto never moved without. Gozaburo hadn't seen what was becoming a more frequent pre-bed ritual.

"What you have to realize, Seto, is that I am in complete control of this whole situation. I have planned out everything, even to the minor details. You will stay here as long as I stay interested in you."

The man used a finger in the back to wrap Seto's hair. He then pulled down on it, lifting Seto's chin up. "Don't let me lose interest."

The man removed his hand and Seto's head fell the moment the hand disappeared. He stared at his lap, which seemed to the be safest object for his gaze. Seto pushed the man's words out of his mind, refusing to let them be truth.

"Look at me."

Seto did.

"I've always wanted to have something as beautiful as you."

Seto's eyes narrowed at "something." It just validated all Seto's notions that the man saw him as nothing more than an object. Seto had gone from the heir to a billion dollar corporation to a plaything.

"You don't _have _me," Seto whispered, placing a quieter emphasis at the end.

Seto didn't have to look at him to see the angry expression fade into the typical amusement. The man laughed. "I have your body. It's only a matter of time until I get your mind."

Seto pressed his lips together, chewing on the inside. He looked down again and shook his head once. "No."

Seto's kidnapper petted through his hair. "You are wrong," the man said. "I get to come down here to my pretty, little toy whenever I want. It will wear you down."

Seto felt one last wave of resistance arise. "Why don't you just get a blowup doll?"

"What's the point? You'll soon be no different than one."

The man paused and picked up Seto's hand. Seto stared at the back of his hand, at the deep blue veins running under his skin. They weren't as prominent as the ones on his wrists.

"Besides, you were right. While I'm waiting on your mind to fade away, it is fun toying with you."

Seto swallowed and lifted his hand away. Seto found himself surprised to learn that he preferred his kidnapper avoiding the truth more than the blatant facts. He turned his head as far to the side as he could, resolved to remain quiet until the man left him alone. The barely-green walls held Seto's attention while he waited.

The man stood. Seto held his breath while the man stood above him, unmoving. The man stayed still for so long that Seto had no choice but to breathe again. Seto kept his eyes on the wall as his "pitiful" resistance. He did so until his kidnapper leaned down and grabbed his arm, jerking him to his feet in a quick motion. The blanket fell around Seto's feet.

"Let me go," Seto said. The words came out involuntarily. Seto realized his error as soon as the words slipped out his lips.

"Excuse me?" the man said, nearly shouting. He pulled Seto close to him, tightening his grip on Seto's arm. He threw Seto down to the bed, then shoved Seto's shoulder until his back touched the pillows. The man followed him down, straddling Seto's waist.

"Let you go? You think I'm ever going to let you go after what I went through to get you here?" He slapped Seto again.

Seto opened his mouth, planning to say that his kidnapper took his words out of context, but never got the chance for defense. Another slap caused Seto to close his mouth and take whatever his kidnapper wanted to deal out.

But the man reached to unzip his pants, and Seto began to panic. "Please, don't. I didn't mean-"

The man pressed his palm against Seto's throat, cutting off his air, and with it, his sentence. Seto's kidnapper used his other hand to unbutton his shirt while keeping Seto pinned.

"Accept it, Seto!" His words were accompanied with extra pressure on Seto's neck. "You will never leave this room!"

Seto choked and lifted a hand in vain to pry at his kidnapper's fingers. His vision grew less and less clear, and before long, it was mostly filled with large black spots.

"Even if I die, you will rot down here, chained to the bed like the slut you are!"

Seto's body went lax as his vision went entirely black.

A second later, the hand lifted from his throat. Seto coughed and gagged at the sudden access to air. He turned his face to the side to bury it into the bed. His vision returned in blurred segments, but it was enough to let him see the door. Jim must have opened it while Seto was nearing unconsciousness. Jim stared wide-eyed at the kidnapper, his hand still on the door knob.

"Uh, your package arrived," Jim said. He moved his hand in front of his eyes and continued. "You need to go, um, sign for it."

Seto tried not to move as his kidnapper crawled off of him. He kept his face hidden even once the man was standing.

"It was a present for Seto. But I don't think he deserves it anymore."

"You still have to sign for it."

The man groaned and stormed to the door. He shoved Jim aside as he passed. Seto waited until he heard the door at the end of the basement slam closed. Then he sat up and grabbed the nearest pillow, setting it over his lap. Seto leaned forward and covered his face so he didn't have to see Jim's expression. He felt his hands shaking against his cheeks.

"You shouldn't fight him."

Seto moved his hands down to his neck. He shook his head. "Would you stop?"

This time, he looked at Jim, wanting to know exactly how Jim could tell him to stop fighting. "Would you give up?" Seto continued when Jim didn't answer.

Seto saw the conflict pass through Jim's eyes. The door started vibrating as Jim's grip on the handle wavered. Seto glared the other man down for several long moments.

Jim looked away and said, "You really should eat something."

When Jim left, Seto leaned over the bed and grabbed the blanket from the floor. He wrapped it around himself, hugging the blanket close. His hands crossed over the cover, and Seto used a fingernail to scratch at his wrist. It stung, but he dug in deeper. The pain wasn't doing enough to distract him for what had just almost happened. That didn't make Seto stop. He decided that with more effort, he could draw blood. It was the first time he tried to work for something since he attempted to escape.

Seto knew he would never be able to draw enough blood, but he continued. After a minute, he broke through the skin. The spot was small, but a drop of blood leaked out. Seto rubbed his finger over the spot until the whole area was painted red. He had forgotten what that type of pain felt like.

He pulled his hand away when he realized what he had done. His eyes couldn't move from his wrist that was gradually becoming more and more stained. Seto tried to register the fact that he had purposefully just hurt himself. How could that improve his situation?

Then Seto thought that there wasn't really any way to make his situation worse. Anything would be an improvement. _Even death, _Seto thought bitterly.

The blood had built into a large drop. The cut could be deeper, and Seto looked around the room for something sharp.

* * *

><p>Dearest Readers,<p>

Thank you for all the positive feedback on what is not a positive story. I understand that this is not the type of story many people enjoy reading. If that is the case, feel no need to continue. It doesn't really get better from here.

This chapter was supposed to contain a letter, which is why it took so long to update. However, after writing in the letter, I found that it flowed better as is.

-Bounced


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten:**

* * *

><p>Seto measured the length of the chain and realized it wasn't long enough to hang himself.<p>

He lay facing the bathroom door and ignoring the hands on his back. The chain was just under five feet. It was long enough for Seto to get his leg on the bed and to reach the desk chair. Only a few weeks had passed since his birthday, but Seto couldn't remember how he managed to sleep when the chain had been two feet shorter.

Being able to sit in the chair felt like an accomplishment. Not an accomplishment like creating the Solid Vision software that revolutionized military training simulations, but a skewed form of the same. It would be his final achievement before he died.

Seto's head was warm, like a computer hummed inside, working in overdrive. The rest of his body shivered in the chilly room, but his head trapped in the heat. Seto wanted to call it a migraine, although he understood that the pain hadn't reached that level. His head didn't ache as much as it pulsed. Of course, he knew there was a pulse in his brain, but this was slow, too slow to be a reflection of his heart beat. It expanded and retracted in large, wide movements, each one gradually increasing the warmth.

Little warm paths traveled down his back. Everywhere they touched locked in the heat for less than a second before dropping down to the temperature of the rest of his body. The finger trails focused mainly on his scars. Seto was actually grateful for the callused skin that helped keep him from feeling the touch.

Seto tried to pull his legs in closer, but the chain stopped him. Seto tugged in vain, but the bed's leg held firm. He had tired of working to pull off the leg. It was attached to the bed frame, which was made of solid wood and had rounded corners unsuitable for trying to crack his skull.

Seto pressed his wrists against his eyes and curled his fingers in his hair. Exhaling, Seto felt the man's breath fade into a sticky cold. After so many weeks, all Seto ever seemed to feel was hot or cold. Hot, cold, and the heavy haze that swam in front of and around him. Those he could focus on and let fill his mind rather than the touches.

"Seto, I wish you would tell me where you got all these," the man said. Seto felt another warm line down his lower back. Far underneath his skin, he felt the remnants of the worse pain. The worse pain gradually stopped hurting as much. Seto almost wished it never lost the edge. At least then he wouldn't feel like it was a constant.

"Or at least how you got them all."

'_Dear Mokuba_,' Seto thought, wishing he was actually able to write down his thoughts rather than just think them. But with his kidnapper so close, he didn't want to risk the man reading anything. He could write to Mokuba later on, when the morning came or the night – whatever time the man decided to leave each day.

'__He keeps asking me about the scars on my back-'__ Seto cut the thought short, not knowing where he wanted to go. Seto let his head fall deeper into the pillow, hoping to trick his body into relaxing. He hated his body's reflexes. Every time he buried his face in his pillow and began to suffocate, his body pulled back.

"You could tell me about it, Seto. I'm sure you have never told anyone."

Seto's hair was getting too long. The ends tickled against his nose and longer strands caught in his mouth. Even with his hands covering the majority of his face, hairs worked through and tickled his cheeks. Seto wanted his hair cut, but knew that he wouldn't be allowed to do so himself. If he was allowed access to scissors, he would stab them through his wrists. He kept quiet on the subject.

The hand on his back moved to play with his ear. The fingers tugged on his ear and circled the outside.

"Seto," the man said. Seto tuned him out so that he wasn't subjected to the rest. It hadn't been more than a day since Seto took his last shower, but he was already considering asking for another. He would wait to ask when Jim came down and when his kidnapper went up. Jim left him alone, just sitting on the bed while Seto stayed in the bathroom with the door open. Maybe Jim would lose his concentration long enough for Seto to breathe in enough water to fill his lungs.

Seto liked to think it was Thursday. If he counted the days correctly - and since he quit his tally several kidnapper visits ago, he was just guessing - then Mokuba would be at school. Unless he had already gotten out of school. After so many months, Gozaburo had probably hired after-school tutors to speed up Mokuba's education.

"Seto-"

'_He tried to get me to talk about how I got them, but I refused to answer._'

Seto thought the world of his brother, but he knew that Mokuba was not capable of keeping up the level of schooling Seto received, not with the additional training that accompanied the lessons. The fingers on his back stung like the riding crop. When Seto dreamed, he dreamed about Mokuba first, then about snapping the riding crop in two.

Even his hands had light scars tracing them. The numbers on his fingers and palms were far less than the number covering his back. Maybe if he broke a finger, it would get infected. The infection could spread, and Seto could die.

"Now, Seto-"

The hands, the hands were a constant, just like the worse pain. As impossible as it was, the hands felt like a larger part of Seto's life than the man himself. The hands liked to touch him, to feel his scars, to travel places they shouldn't.

Seto shook his head, which brought his kidnapper's attention to Seto's hands. He pulled them from Seto's face, leaning over Seto and peering down. Seto stared at the inside of his eyelids. Looking at nothing was better than that face, those eyes, the constant focus.

'_I'm just tired of thinking about them. Even when I'm kidnapped I can't escape the scars._'

"-and Seto-"

'_I hate them._' He thought of the word "them" as more encompassing than just his scars. The man, the room, the bed made for two, the shared toothbrush holder, the lack of a razor with which he could cut his wrists, the chains – all of them he hated.

He never should have gone to work that day. His time would have been much better spent at his home office, working form his desk, and getting his projects done on his own time, rather than Gozaburo's clock. If he hadn't been at KaibaCorp, he might still be at home. He might be having dinner, breakfast, lunch, whatever the nearest meal was, with Mokuba. Or maybe he would still be chained up, only to a different bed.

Seto forced his hands out of the man's grip. His eyes burned. Seto went back to covering his face, but really just wanted to press his fingertips against his eyes, like that would ease the aching. All it produced were the phosphenes flashing in the darkness. The shapes didn't resemble anything, just static against the dark field of Seto's closed eyes. Seto wanted to gouge his eyes out, but knew it wouldn't kill him, but further his helplessness. He didn't want to add another scar.

'_I don't regret anything that lead up to them. I always understood that each mark was one less for you._'

Gozaburo would have followed through with the hundreds of threats.

"Oh, Seto-"

Seto's nose felt like it would start running any moment. He breathed in heavily in resistance. The fingers had moved to his chest. They moved up and down with each rise and fall. Seto didn't flinch. He didn't remember when he stopped flinching.

'_They would have been for you, most of them at least._' Gozaburo did like to inflict Mokuba's punishments on Seto. Seto had always wondered if Mokuba had ever learned the house rules. He broke so many, multiples on a daily basis. If Mokuba had known, there was no way that he would have continued in his recklessness.

Seto felt, although he was doing nothing more than thinking to Mokuba, like a little prayer to a figure he could never reach, that he was being unfair to his brother. Not all of his scars came from Mokuba's mistakes.

'_I did earn several myself._'

The man moved away. Seto didn't move, knowing better than to assume he was leaving for the day, night, afternoon. Seto used the man's momentary absence to adjust the blanket around his body. The basement room felt colder today than it had on all the days before. Maybe he was sick. He wouldn't die of a fever.

When Seto was fifteen, he sneaked out of the house. Rather, he tried to sneak out, but with the constant surveillance and security, his every movement was recorded. Seto returned the next morning with the belief that he got away for the night. He hadn't even done anything wrong. He just wanted out. That night was the reason his two end fingers on his left hand faced at a slightly different angle than the rest of his fingers.

'_Maybe I regret those a little._'

"Seto-"

Seto loved Mokuba, but he didn't believe that Mokuba was strong enough. Mokuba didn't have to grow up being strong. He had never been exposed to the struggles that Seto faced daily. Of course, Mokuba did experience the initial childhood trauma of losing almost all of his family, but he had been seven when they left the orphanage. After that time, Seto handled everything for him. Mokuba couldn't take Gozaburo.

'_I don't want to think that you might end up with scars like mine._'

Seto's nose wrinkled when he felt a breath on his face.

He liked helping Mokuba. '_You are my little brother and I am supposed to protect you. I can't do that from here-_'

He couldn't even escape the man's exhales and breath-light touches. Seto turned his head farther away, then rolled over. The tiny wave he had become accustomed to fighting back started to resurface. It urged him to shove the man, to push him away, to do anything. That wave had been fought back so long ago – Seto stopped counting the days – and got easier to suppress. One length of metal affected everything.

'_And I can't handle that, Mokuba._'

"Okay, Seto."

Nothing was okay. Seto wasn't okay. Mokuba wasn't okay. Neither situation would ever be okay. Seto couldn't even die to get away from it all.

The hands brushed his hair away from his face and his neck. There were several places on Seto's body that he was beginning to hate. His neck sat near the top of the list, just under his mouth and-

"-beautiful, Seto."

Seto was failing to do anything. If he couldn't keep himself safe, he would never be able to help Mokuba again. Even if – when, Seto reminded himself – he was let go, Seto would be the one needed help. Seto wanted to protect himself, but he wasn't even sure who he was anymore. He certainly had changed since that last day at work. Even since he tried to break out. Since the last time he saw Mokuba.

'_Am I failing you as a brother?_'

He couldn't do anything now. His kidnapper or Jim decided when he ate, when he slept, when he showered, everything. Seto was unable to decide even when he would die.

'_My every decision has been for you. Now what?_'

Seto thought about it. _Now what? _There was nothing now. There wasn't even a what. Seto should have thought, _Now nothing. _He had nothing but the attention of a rapist. The man stripped him of everything from his clothing to his personality. Seto wanted to drift, to be anywhere else if even for a moment, even back in Gozaburo's shadow.

_'__You have to take my place?__'_

The image of Mokuba staring in the mirror, trying to cover a black eye came to mind. Seto's visualization was so real that had to shake his head to shatter the picture just like the mirror he saw Mokuba staring into. But shaking his head just drew more attention. Everything he did drew attention. He never minded the attention before.

Mokuba could handle the press. Seto knew that much at least. As long as Gozaburo didn't decide that Mokuba's bubbly energy was unfit for the Kaiba name, Mokuba would have no issue in facing the press. The charisma Mokuba possessed would work him through almost any situation he would meet.

'__Stay safe, Mokuba.___' _Seto kept thinking the words again and again. Over and over, he let the words cross his thoughts. __Stay safe. Stay safe. Please be safe. __Second only to getting back to his brother, Seto wanted nothing other than to know, to conclusively know, that Mokuba was all right._ '___Do it for me,___' _Seto thought, then changed his mind._ '___Or for yourself – just do it.___'_

"Seto, if-"

The blanket was pulled away. Seto exhaled and waited for it to start again.

_'__If I get out of his, I am going to need you to be okay.__'  
><em>

This time, Seto didn't bother changing the __if__ to a __when.__


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven:**

* * *

><p><em>The light bulb on the ceiling had burned out while Seto slept. He rolled over and tumbled off the bed. When he hit the floor, he felt nothing, and only heard a vague, far-off rattle. He didn't feel the carpet beneath him and couldn't find the bed bedside himself. <em>

_He reached into the darkness. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing. The blackness was thick, almost as if he could touch it with his fingertips. It was smooth, like running his fingers over satin sheets. It sickened Seto, reminding him of the sheets on the bed he had spent too much time in. Seto crawled forward through the darkness, expecting to find a wall, but passed through the opened doorway. _

_Looking from right to left, Seto's eyes struggled for anything to lock onto. He found a dim light above his head and to the left – the door at the top of the staircase. Seto stood and walked toward it. Only once he tripped on the bottom step did he realize there wasn't a chain holding in him in the room. The door shouldn't have been open either. _

_Seto went up the stairs, forgetting about the inconsistencies. He fought to hold his eyes open as the light became more prominent. He turned his head and pressed on. Seto wanted out – out of that room, out of the chain, out of the darkness, out of his kidnapper's pestering gaze. The open doorway led to the Out he strove to obtain. He still couldn't look into the light that would take him to the unreachable Out. _

_Although he was blind, Seto kept walking. He stumbled again when without realizing, he reached the top of the staircase. Seto lifted his foot for the next step and was met with air as it crashed down. _

_He ran his hand along the wall, guiding himself since his eyes were closed. He began forcing them open, trying to let in the light little at a time. _

_Someone called his name. It started faint, sounding like a whisper, but got louder the more Seto walked. He hoped that __he wouldn't recognize it __if the voice didn't belong to Mokuba. The more the voice called, the darker the light became._

As soon as he opened his eyes, Seto closed them and pretended he was back in the mansion. He leaned against the headboard behind him and imagined it was the wall next to his bedroom door. Not the one inside the room, but in the hallway, where there was a direct view to the long window at the end of the hall. Seto turned his head as if to look. Mokuba liked that window. Seto often found his brother sitting on the bench underneath it, looking out or reading.

But when Seto created the image, he couldn't see Mokuba. Seto didn't want Mokuba in the hallway, but beside him. Close enough that Seto could know without doubt that he was unharmed.

Seto opened his eyes and accidentally met the gaze of his kidnapper. When Seto closed them again, he was on his bed, which was easier to visualize. He heard the heavy breaths coming from beside him and forced his mind to hear them as Mokuba. Mokuba had nightmares on occasion, and they usually drew him to Seto's bedroom. It was sweet that at thirteen, Mokuba still believed Seto could rescue him from the bad dreams.

"Are you hungry, Seto?"

The man moved, shaking Seto's picture of Mokuba's sleeping face and pulling him back to the reality of the different bedroom. This wasn't Seto's room. He was still a prisoner; he still hadn't been found. Mokuba wasn't with him.

"No."

Seto started picking at the edge of the comforter. Now that the man had started talking, Seto could no longer pretend that he was at home, that he was with Mokuba, that he was out.

"You're never hungry."

"What if I got fat?"

The man laughed and edged closer to Seto. He put his hand flat on Seto's stomach, and Seto breathed out sharply at the sudden cold touch.

"I won't let you get fat."

Seto pushed the man's hand away and slid his arm over the spot. He felt like the basement had gotten colder. It may have been true, since his birthday had been so long ago. It had to be December, or maybe January. If he guessed correctly, Seto had been locked in the basement room for about half a year. It could have been February.

Seto must have frowned, because the man grabbed his face and tilted it to the side. "Is something wrong?"

If he remembered how, Seto would have laughed. Everything was wrong. A negative facial expression was the least wrong thing about his situation. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if not for the waiting. All Seto was allowed to do was wait. To pass the time, he stared at the door expectantly, knowing that at any moment, the man could walk inside. He waited for Jim to bring him the two-daily meals.

Waiting to shower was the worst for Seto. He would take showers every morning and night if possible, just to try scrubbing himself again, looking for the part of himself that used to feel clean. He hadn't been clean in a long time.

Six months never seemed like so long. Seto couldn't understand how so much time had slipped passed. Someone should have found him. He should have been found right after he was taken out of KaibaCorp. There were cameras, security, officers – someone, somewhere had made a mistake, and now Seto paid for it.

"Seto, you're leaving again."

Seto blinked and remembered that they had been talking about something. He didn't really remember much. Their conversations were never about anything important, just words to fill the space. He always wanted to draw speech from Seto, no matter what was said.

No, that wasn't true. If Seto mentioned leaving, or hinted in that direction, the man would become angry. The man didn't get angry often, even when Seto fought back. But then again, Seto had to think back over the past several weeks to find any occasion where he stood up for himself. And even then, the action was something as small as pushing the man's wandering hands away when they got too close to Seto's-

Fingers snapped in front of his face. Seto responded by glancing at the man. But his gaze drifted down to the elaborate knot of the tie around his neck. Seto didn't recognize the knot, but was more irritated that the man stayed fully clothed when Seto wasn't allowed to have anything. Even during the times that Seto forced out his thoughts, the man wore almost all of his clothes. Though not typically the suit that he had on at the moment.

It had been so long since Seto had worn his suit. He wondered if the man kept it after taking it from Seto. If so, it was likely in the house. He wanted it back, not just because he was tired of having no clothes, but because it was his. Seto didn't have anything anymore.

"Seto!"

Seto lifted his gaze up again. He had been zoning out a lot in the past few days, or weeks, or maybe even months. He didn't know how it kept happening. His focus and attention used to be top notch. It was likely the result of hours spent reliving the moment that he was taken from work. He replayed it in front of his eyes like watching a movie, over and over, time and time again. He wanted to know what went wrong, because the kidnapping seemed flawless.

It shouldn't be possible that such a perfect crime happened to him. Seto hadn't done anything deserving of being kidnapped. Seto didn't deserve a lot of what he received. His parents' death, being sent to the orphanage home, choosing an abusive man to adopt the two of them, one of those would be unfortunate. Experiencing all three –

"Honestly, Seto. You are down to the attention span of a goldfish."

He didn't want to, but Seto decided to try focusing on the room. He went back to picking at the comforter to give his hands something to do. Maybe if he messed up this comforter, the man would bring down a second one. The room was very cold.

"Was I supposed to answer something?"

"Stop pulling apart the blanket."

"It's cold."

"Then scoot closer."

Seto bounced his foot, rattling the chain. It used to hurt when he moved his foot, but after so much time, the wounds beneath the band had healed. The band had a small amount of space that slid up and down on his leg, tight enough that he couldn't slip it off, but not to the point that it rubbed off the skin. Seto stopped purposefully moving it to look at his skin. The old cuts had turned into a thick ring of scar tissue around his ankle.

It was just another scar. Seto was accustomed to scars. He had only received them from Gozaburo before.

He closed his eyes. Seto always hoped that when he turned eighteen, he could move out of Gozaburo's house. Now he was eighteen, and all he wanted was to get back. Gozaburo could be dealt with. Seto understood his moods and his wishes. Seto knew the rules and how to live within them. This room had no rules. It wasn't a game that had guidelines stapled on the inside cover. He couldn't follow a strategy. He couldn't win.

"Seto?"

Seto waited for him to say something else. He waited. He only ever waited. Seto waited for the door to open, for the constant touches, for the few showers he was allowed weekly. He barely noticed himself waiting anymore. It was just his regular state of mind. Waiting for the footsteps used to be a cause of anxiety, but now they just happened.

Things just happened. They just were.

"I have to go. I hate having to leave you, Seto."

Seto remembered being thrilled to hear "I have to go." Now, all he could think was how he would be trapped, alone, in the basement. Sometimes, the man would flip off the light. Even with the longer chain, Seto couldn't get to the light switch. He was left in the darkness for hours, without so much as a sliver of light coming from underneath the door.

Seto had never been afraid of the dark.

He realized that the man had gone. Not wasting a moment, he grabbed the blanket and left the bed. He thought about sitting in the chair, but decided to switch to the floor. The chair was solid wood with no arms, which made sitting on it and staying covered difficult and uncomfortable. Seto disliked the floor, but at the moment, preferred it over either the bed or the chair.

He moved to the wall furthest from the bed. For a second, Seto thought about taking the notebook, but he didn't know when his kidnapper would be returning and didn't want to reveal that the notebook was tucked underneath the mattress. The hiding place wasn't original, but it would be better for the man not to know Seto was hiding it. That might provoke him to read it.

The chain stretched to its limit. To find a position without his leg extended, Seto had to scoot a few inches over to get closer to the bed. He adjusted the blanket over his lap and rested his head against the wall.

He must have done something horrible, at some point in his life, to deserve being trapped and chained like an animal.

Seto couldn't keep his leg still. He tugged it toward him, then relaxed, then repeated the process. He understood that it was stuck, fixed to the bed's leg and his own, but part of him wanted the chain to just snap. While that wouldn't allow him to escape, he would be done with the chain. The few minutes he was allowed in the shower were the only times Seto was let out of the chain. About half of those times it was Jim that supervised. Seto preferred Jim's supervision since he would just sit at the desk and read. The man joined in, took control, wouldn't let Seto scrub until his skin was raw.

Someone had to find him. No crime was perfect; every system had a fault. Seto didn't know what his kidnapper's fault would be, but he knew it would reveal itself over time. Hopefully the time would come soon.

The door opened. Seto looked up, expecting his kidnapper, but found Jim. He scanned the room for Seto, then walked over to place the tray he carried down on the desk. Instead of leaving, he settled in by the door.

"You have to eat."

"Just leave it."

Jim shook his head. "I have to watch."

Seto wanted to protest, but lacked the energy. He sat in silence where he was, staring at the far wall. Seto could smell the food, but his stomach didn't react. He really wasn't hungry. He hadn't been hungry in a long time.

"He has medical supplies upstairs," Jim began. The statement was so unexpected that Seto glanced over. "IVs, needles, medication. He can drug you and feed you through a tube."

The concept of being in a forced unconsciousness wouldn't have sounded so terrible if not for the knowledge that the man could do anything to him while he was out. Seto weighed the positives and negatives. Would he rather be aware for everything that happened to him?

"Come on, Seto. If you eat some of it I can go."

"I'm really not hungry."

Jim shifted his position, crossing his arms and putting his foot on the wall behind him. "You've lost a lot of weight."

On a reflex, Seto looked down. The blanket covered most of his body, but Seto wasn't really examining himself. He lifted his chin back up and shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Jim exhaled sharply and grabbed the plate from the tray. He carried it to Seto and set it on the floor beside him. Instead of standing up, Jim stayed knelt down beside Seto.

"I-" Jim whispered. He said it in such a faint voice that Seto almost thought he imagined it.

"Don't tell him," Jim continued, speaking carefully. A few long moments passed before Jim collected himself enough that he could finish. "They are still looking. They haven't given up on you."

Jim nudged the plate closer to Seto. "Don't give up on yourself."

Seto pushed the plate away. "You could end this."

"That would make me a known accomplice. If I have to pick between me and you, I'm picking me."

Seto squared his gaze on Jim. "Let him force me." He pushed the plate as far from himself as he could without moving from the spot on the floor. He made his decision. Being unconscious would be better than being present for anything else that his kidnapper did to him.

Mokuba wouldn't have given up on finding him. If Mokuba had faith in Seto, then Seto would have faith in Mokuba. It was just a matter of waiting, settling in and waiting.

* * *

><p>This chapter lines up with the letter seen in Chapter Six of Dear Mokuba.<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

_Seto pulled the comforter closer, unable to get warm in the room. He peeked through half-open eyes to find the bed empty. He must have gone without waking up Seto. That was new._

_Seto decided to wake up in order to grow tired again. Getting tired took effort since he spent every waking hour lying in bed. Even his showers were timed. Jim hated spending any length of time in the basement._

_The showers with his kidnapper took longer. Seto always came out of them feeling dirtier than when he entered._

_His kidnapper had left the door open. Seto wanted to take the pillow from under his head and throw it at the door, hoping to slam it closed. He hated the open door almost as much as the chain on his ankle. The door gaped open at him, teasing him. It was an open, laughing mouth that led to an impossible escape._

_He sat up and stared at the bookshelf across the room. The titles blurred, his eyes still adjusting to being awake. Seto rolled his head around to try to pop his neck. Spending so much time sedentary tightened Seto's muscles to the point that sleeping alone made him sore. His whole body felt tight. He couldn't get anything to pop._

_The light in the bedroom was off, but the bathroom and hallway lights were on. Seto couldn't reach anything aside from the bed and the chair. Maybe his kidnapper thought he would try to electrocute himself if he could reach the light switch._

_He hadn't thought of that one before._

_Seto saw something on the desk that he knew had not been there before he went to sleep. He could see a vague outline of a – a something on the top of the desk. Leaning forward for a better view, the chain rattled. The sound was distant, like it was coming from another room. It was easy to ignore because when he got closer, Seto saw the dim, hallway light reflecting on the edge of a key._

_A key. There was a key on the desk._

_Seto slid off the bed, leaving the comforter half-draped over the edge. He moved to the end of his leash and stretched out his arm. His fingertips brushed the wooden corner, but could reach no farther. Maybe with another six inches, another hand-length and Seto could grab it._

_He took a step backward. There had to be some way to get it. Seto glanced around, letting his eyes fall on the chair. It wasn't screwed down like the bed. He hated the screws on the bed._

_Picking up the chair, Seto tried to hold it out. It shook in his grip for a moment before his arms gave out. After however long, he had lost his strength. He had lost almost everything, and now his strength. He just needed six inches._

Seto opened his eyes and met his kidnapper's gaze. It was how he was used to waking. The man's eyes were flat and dull, and they were too focused on Seto. He felt like all he ever saw were the mixed greens and browns.

"Good morning."

Seto closed his eyes again when the fingers moved to his face. The man started rubbing Seto's eyelids and pinching the skin, causing Seto to lean away.

"Let me see them."

The fingers grabbed Seto's eyelashes and pulled upwards. Seto could see a blurry image of the man's jaw. Seto surrendered.

"Mm." The man pressed his nose against Seto's cheek and nuzzled their faces together. Gritting his teeth, Seto waited it out. The man's hand had dropped lower. Seto tightened every muscle in his body, except for his eyes. He had to leave them open, just as painful as the open door.

"Remember when you had those little freckles right here?" Seto's kidnapper ran his thumb over the side of Seto's nose. "I miss them."

"Let me go outside and I'll get them back."

The man smiled and kissed Seto. "That's funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

"I know. You were really just being pathetic."

"How is wanting to leave this room pathetic?" Seto made sure to stare at his kidnapper while speaking. He wasn't pathetic, but the weak gaze was all he could manage.

"Not the desire to leave the room-" another kiss. "-but the fact you still think you can convince me to let you off the chain."

The man almost never mentioned the chain. Seto flickered his gaze away. There was only so long he could maintain eye contact with the man. But he couldn't look away. The man grabbed Seto's face and squeezed, holding up Seto's chin and pushing out his lips. The man pressed his lips against Seto's again. He used his fingers to wedge Seto's jaw open.

As overwhelming as the thought was, Seto refused to bite. He wanted to see if he could take off the fingers with the force of his teeth. But he waited because that was what he did. The man stared at Seto's open mouth.

"You have a pretty mouth. And teeth. And lips." Another kiss, off to the side at the corner of his mouth where his lips connected. "Everything you've got is beautiful."

"Is that why I'm here?" Seto said around the fingers.

The man chuckled against Seto's cheek. Seto, although he did his best to keep it still, felt his jaw begin to shake. He knew the man could feel it since his fingers held his jaw open. Seto felt like his jaw was breaking, like he was cracking.

"I have to go. I will be gone all day. Someone has to work to make sure you are provided for."

The fingers came out of his mouth. Seto snapped his teeth together with the force he wanted to use on the fingers.

"I hate leaving you alone for so long. We both know how little Jim provides for company."

Seto let the man touch him and waited. He pressed his arms to his chest and let the man take Seto's whole body under his touch. Even a foot in between them would feel like a canyon. He wanted to back away, but if he moved any farther, he might fall off the bed. Maybe he should fall.

He rubbed his free- no, not free, unchained – foot on the shackle binding his ankle to the bed, binding him to the room. His ankle itched underneath the band.

"Oh, Seto, beautiful Seto. You know I would stay down here with you if I could." He kissed Seto again. "I miss you when I'm gone."

The man wrapped both hands around Seto and hugged him close. He leaned in and touched their noses together. Seto felt the man's heavy breaths on his lips and wanted to gag.

"I might be inclined to do something nice for you if you did something nice for me."

There was an intelligent pause in the man's speech. They were too close together for Seto's eyes to focus, so he kept them closed while the man waited for Seto to answer. Seto did nothing.

"I could move the books over. Would you like that, Seto?"

Seto's eyes burned, as if they were going to start welling. He didn't understand the response. Although they were just books, Seto hadn't had anything to do in so long. Just the idea of holding a book again, of reading, of occupying his mind with thoughts other than imprisonment was almost unrealistic. He hadn't done anything in so long that thinking about it gave him chills.

The man wouldn't do it. He was lying. He wanted Seto to be isolated to the two of them. If he gave him the bookshelf, then Seto would be able to focus on something other than the man.

"If you don't answer me, I will assume you don't want them."

"What do you want?" Seto asked. It wasn't a free offer.

"I will come almost all of the way. You just have to close the gap."

The man leaned in. Seto pulled away in horror, realizing what the man meant for Seto to do. Seto started to shake his head, which barely moved since he was lying on his side. He tilted his head down for his chin to touch his chest. He wouldn't do it. After all this time of holding out, he couldn't give up now.

"It's just an inch."

The man's humid breath covered Seto's mouth and jaw as he forced his face back up. They were too close for eye contact. Everything in Seto's field of vision muddled into one fuzzy image of fear. It wasn't just an inch.

Seto's fight had always been lost, but he had yet to surrender. His life had become a losing battle, even if he refused to admit to the fact. Seto held out the surrender. He stay adamant.

He wasn't adamant. He was broken. He was bored. He was tired of fighting.

The man touched their foreheads together, leaving the inch hovering between their lips. One hand rested on Seto's hip, the other on Seto's neck. The hands stayed still. The man had only ever had to be patient. He just had to wait out Seto.

Seto shook his head again and tried to lean back, but the hand on his neck kept him in place. It wasn't about gaining books, but giving up the struggle. Seto's resistance was all he had left. No, he didn't even have resistance left.

His teeth chattered. Seto gritted his teeth, but couldn't stop the shaking. He made it worse, feeling the vibrations in his hands and heart.

There was no point in anything. He had nothing. He was nothing.

It was fast. Seto almost didn't process that he had done it. The moment of contact came and went before Seto fully registered what he had done. He mouth burned like the old, oozing fire that ate through his skin and now lived just under the surface.

"Good boy. That's so good."

Seto covered his mouth. He pressed his face as hard as he could, digging his fingers into his eyes and cheeks, as if that would make the nausea go away. His own breaths shook against his hand.

He was pathetic.

"I'll have Jim move the shelf over."

The man touched a final kiss to Seto's forehead, brushing away his hair for clear access.

Before the man left, he stopped at the bookshelf and grabbed the top book. He tossed it to the bed where it landed half-open by Seto's feet. Seto couldn't move.

"I'll leave the light on for you." Then he was gone.

_Don't be sick. _

He couldn't give in to the nausea. The chain wasn't long enough to reach the bathroom.

How would he tell Mokuba?

Seto hadn't allowed himself to think about Mokuba, but now that he did, he had to claw his fingernails into his skin to keep tears from building. How could he go back and face his little brother? His little, perfect brother couldn't see him the same way.

_Don't be sick._

He couldn't be strong anymore. There was no point to anything. He believed the man; he would die, unfound, and chained to a bed. A quiet surrender began to creep up on him.

_Don't be sick._

Seto's throat felt swollen and full, the fullness bubbling up to his mouth. He began to gag, no matter what his willpower wanted. He covered his mouth with both hands while his body fought itself. His stomach lurched.

Something as simple as the promise of reading and Seto gave up everything he had struggled for. Seto had lost everything – himself included. He couldn't do anything. He was everything the man had ever called him: a blowup doll, pathetic, _his._

_Don't be sick._

There was nothing. He couldn't do a single thing to help himself. He was alone in the situation. He couldn't even find a way to kill himself to get away. His life would be isolated to torture and abuse far worse than anything Gozaburo could have ever dreamed up. He couldn't break away from the man's touch and games.

This was all he had.

The bedroom door opened. Before Jim walked all the way inside, Seto said, "Take it off."

_Don't be sick._

"I've got to move your books."

"Get me to the bathroom."

"Give me a second."

"I don't have a second."

Jim glanced over, then started to fumble for the key. Seto's body continued fighting itself and he couldn't will his stomach to stop trying to escape his body. He was disgusted by himself. He was nothing more than a puddle of his former self.

The blankets were thrown back from his ankle, which Jim picked up and twisted to find the lock. The moment it fell to the floor, Seto rolled off the bed and ran into the bathroom. He collapsed in front of the toilet and allowed his reflexes to take over. He was mostly dry-heaving since he ate almost nothing in the past weeks. But he kept throwing up even after there was nothing left in is body. He wanted to be rid of everything, not just the contents of his stomach, but the guilt of his action.

When his body had calmed, Seto stayed resting with his forehead on his arm, which he hung limply over the seat. His throat burned and throbbed. He couldn't find his breath, and just exhaled again and again, rarely catching a quick gasp of air. He was drowning.

He knew that Jim stood in the doorway, watching. Jim had to watch him. After so long, Seto had grown accustomed to being monitored. He would have preferred for no one to see him in this state. He ran his fingers through his hair and found his forehead damp. His whole body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and when the air conditioner kicked on, his skin chilled.

He couldn't get his breathing under control. He wanted to calm down so that he could remove himself from the toilet. The seat was cold, and in the cold room, Seto felt numb. The longer he stayed still, the less he felt himself. Sensation dropped out of his fingers first. It grew up his arms and started to touch his toes. The feeling of nothingness began to consume him.

His breaths evened when the nothing touched his chest. It came in a sudden wave, taking Seto from hyperventilating to slow, even breaths in the beat of a second. His entire body numbed over. He felt distanced from it, like he had in the beginning of captivity. The last time, he had to convince himself of it. This time, he lost himself without trying.

Jim placed a hand on Seto's shoulder. It had been a while since Seto's stomach settled. Seto allowed Jim to lead him to the sink, where he went through the motions of rinsing out his mouth. He didn't taste anything anymore. There was nothing anymore.

Jim walked Seto back into the bedroom, sitting him on the bed and reattaching the chain. Seto stared at the far wall while Jim clicked the lock closed. Jim stepped away, and Seto didn't move. The blanket was draped over the bed where he left it, but Seto let it sit. His nakedness didn't bother him. He was always naked. Jim had seen him hundreds of times. There was no point in hiding now.

The room was silent while Jim pulled the books from the shelf, stacking them in order on the desk. Small escapes of dust floated into the air when a book landed on another. Seto's eyes followed the rising dust until he couldn't see it anymore. The longer he stared, the less he saw. The edges of his vision blacked over, tunneling until he could only see the one stack of books. He lost sight of the rest of the room, the bed, the chain, the bookshelf, Jim.

He was left with one image – the books that he traded himself for. Knowledge meant more to him than he had ever thought. This wasn't knowledge. He didn't even know what was contained in the books. They could all be works of sentimental fiction. Seto couldn't remember the last time he read a textbook. As much as he hated being forced to study, Seto loved to learn. He was tired of not knowing anything.

Seto heard Jim grunt, picking up the bookshelf. There was a long stretch of empty wall beside the door to the bathroom. Jim began dragging it over, one end touching the floor and the other just a few inches above it. His face contorted with the effort. The shelf was solid wood, which looked heavy. It took Jim a full minute to move the shelf the five feet needed to put it within Seto's reach. Jim finished and rubbed his thumb across his nose.

Seto felt the weight of the notebook from below him, where it was tucked under the mattress. Mokuba would never see him the same way again. His brother couldn't forgive that. He depended on Seto. But Seto wasn't Seto. He was a vague shadow of a broken version of himself.

He held up his hands and didn't recognize them. He flipped them over to look at both sides, searching for anything familiar. The scars were all still there, the slight bend to the left small finger. But they couldn't be his. His body couldn't do the thing he had done today. He knew they still called him Seto, but he couldn't respond to it anymore.

His vision blacked over completely. Lines of white striped across the darkness. Seto started to see an outline. It started out fuzzy, but with every breath, it grew into a definite shape. More than a shape, an image, it became a clear picture of Mokuba. He looked at his brother for the first time in months, certain that he was staring into Mokuba's eyes. The face was so vivid. Seto didn't know that his mind was capable of intense creation.

Mokuba smiled at him. But his eyes moved down, as if looking at Seto's whole body. The smile faded. His mouth moved, but Seto didn't hear any words coming out. Seto saw a sneer on his brother's face that he never could have imagined.

Mokuba was disappointed, or maybe disgusted. It was probably disgusted. It was an understandable reaction to everything Seto had done.

"Seto."

Seto looked at Mokuba's mouth, but it didn't move. He heard his name again, but it didn't come from Mokuba. When Seto tried to blink, he realized that his eyes were closed. They fluttered open, where Seto found Jim staring down at him. The bookshelf had been filled.

"You going to be okay in here?"

Seto couldn't stop the scoffing exhale. "What kind of question is that?"

Jim's eyes widened and he started fidgeting with his hands.

"I just meant, like, if you needed back in the bathroom."

"No."

"Okay," Jim said. He backed to the door, glancing from Seto to the floor. He lingered in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed. His hands shook as he reached for the doorknob. There was a second when Seto thought Jim would leave the door open, but he pulled it closed behind him. Seto didn't hear any footsteps for a long while. The light in the hallway was on, so Seto could see the shadow under the door. Jim stayed on the other side for minutes. When he walked away, Seto heard the door at the top of the stairs slam.

Seto reached for the notebook. He had to move forward to relieve the weight holding down the mattress. When he lifted it toward him, the pen fell to the floor. Seto didn't want to write, but he had to. If he didn't tell Mokuba now, then he never would have the courage to say anything. His courage was falling with this identity.

He let his hand drop lazily over the side of the bed. His fingertips were inches from the pen. He would have expected to see his hand shaking, but it was motionless. His joints felt stiff, like they hadn't been moved in weeks. He leaned over more to grab it, but couldn't make his fingers move. The grabbing reflex that came with infancy was gone. He couldn't make his fingers do such a simple action. His brain told his fingers to grab, but they hung there, lifeless.

Lifeless was a good word for it. Seto could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and feel the beats of his heart, but that was the only life he felt. He knew that there was electricity in his body, but he couldn't feel it. If it was possible to feel flat, he did.

Seto let himself slide off the bed and landed beside the pen. He straightened his back and reached for the pen again. He managed to scoop it into his palm. Using his other hand, Seto closed his fingers around it, pressing down his fingers one at a time. The pen wasn't in the position in which he normally held it, but he put the pen to the top of the first clean page.

_Dear Mokuba,_

_I- _Seto paused, unsure of how to say what he needed to say to his brother. _Don't- _His hand felt limp. _Know-_

What could he say to Mokuba about himself? His past letters hadn't been nearly so dark. Up until this point, nothing he had written would let Mokuba know that the brother he had known had crumbled away. If he told Mokuba, there would be no going back.

Seto shook his head. He told himself that the notebook would stay with him until he died. Mokuba would not read them. He was talking to the figment of his own mind. He could be as honest as he wanted to be, because he was writing to a journal named Mokuba.

_-what has become of me. __Never before have I been more humiliated, and this is of my own doing. Oh Mokuba, I cannot believe I have fallen so low. I am losing myself. Not losing, but giving up who I am voluntarily. _

Seto almost laughed at his phrasing. He sounded so formal in his self-reflections. He didn't really know who he was writing to. It could have been himself or Mokuba, but neither required the strange tone of the letter. It wasn't him speaking anymore. Tearing out the page would be the best thing to do. If he could just start over, then maybe everything could be fixed.

But he couldn't start over. He would never have a chance to start over. He would remain this broken for the rest of his life.

_I have been debating whether or not to write about this to you. The better part of the time since- _Seto stopped again. It was the moment for honesty and his hand didn't move. He didn't want Mokuba to know. He glared at the fist around the pen and forced motion.

_-the incident has been spent in inner conflict. I don't want to tell you, but at the same time, I feel as though I must. _Must. Must. The more Seto thought about the word, the less he understood it. He didn't understand what he meant when he told Mokuba that he must do something. He must write like he must betray himself?

_I- _Must he tell Mokuba how he_ woke up just the same as the hundreds of times before. _And how _He was lying in front of me, but not asleep. _Even the details of familiarity and acceptance. _It is a common practice of his, watching me sleep. Upon my waking, he told me that he would be gone for the day. I wasn't sure why he was telling me that. He is gone most of the time. _Mokuba would like to hear that. Even if it meant Seto spent almost all his time alone, it was better to be alone.

_But he apologized. He said that he knew I must be bored in the hours he was gone. He made me an offer then. He said that-_

Seto's kidnapper never really said it plainly. It was just an inch. His intent had been clear. He had pushed Seto to his breaking point, and it worked. The man knew how to manipulate and control Seto. Seto should have seen it coming and prepared better.

His hand couldn't move for the next few words he needed to write. But if none of it mattered, then there was no point in being discreet. Even if Seto did manage to find some way to escape, Mokuba would know. He would look at Seto and see it etched into his face.

_-if I kissed him, he would move the bookshelf to where I could reach it. _

Just mentioning the bookshelf felt absurd. Thinking back, it was. Reading was such a trivial thing. He traded far too much for mild entertainment. His brain was tired of resting so much.

_The offer was so tempting, Mokuba. He was right in that I spent the days in boredom. His bookcase is filled with so many books, and I haven't read anything in so long. _

Seto tried to picture how Mokuba would react to hearing what he had done. He could see Mokuba slowly sitting down on the couch in his bedroom. He wouldn't be able to look Seto in the eyes. He would fidget in the same way as Jim. His mouth would fall open while the rest of his face stayed calm. Mokuba wouldn't want Seto to see his disappointment. Mokuba wasn't a good liar, not when it came to deceiving Seto.

_I did it. _Seto would say. Like Mokuba, he wouldn't be able to look at his brother. Seto wouldn't be able to sit while he talked. Anxiety overtook him just thinking about it. If he tried to tell Mokuba, then he might not be able to finish. Writing was easier. Seto didn't think he could look at Mokuba's horrified face and tell him the truth. He would have to write it down to tell him.

_Mokuba, I voluntarily kissed the man who kidnapped me, just for books. What would I be willing to do to remove the chain? Now that I have compromised myself, he is going to make me do it again. He got me to submit to him for entertainment. _

He looked at the book the man tossed to the bed. It hadn't moved since it was thrown.

_I haven't touched the books. I don't deserve them. I deserve all manners of horrible things. _

Seto thought about his lot. He had to have messed up somewhere in his life. It would have been early, before his mother's death. Seto didn't know what he believed in, but he was beginning to accept that he had done something to end up in this situation. And under Gozaburo. And to lose both parents.

_Maybe I deserve to be here. How could I do such a thing?_

The notebook and pen dropped from his hands. His eyes began to burn again. Being humiliated by Gozaburo was one thing; Seto had no control over what Gozaburo inflicted on him. But humiliating himself was farther than Seto ever thought he would fall. There was no coming back, no repeats. This was his new standard. He lost.

Seto picked up the pen with a final thought.

_And what will happen when he tells me to do it again?_

Seto looked at the page in front of him with the confession of his crime and wanted to shred it into pieces. He had signed his name on every other page, just as a reminder that he wasn't lost, but now he didn't believe in the name. He wasn't Seto Kaiba. He wasn't just Seto. He was nothing to anyone anymore.

_-S_


	13. Chapter 13

The first of the Dear Mokuba letters that I wrote never made it into the final draft of Dear Mokuba. It is mentioned in the first chapter, when Mokuba first is given the copy of Seto's notebook, but I never gave you all a scene of him reading this letter. I've included it here, since it is kind of a pivotal moment for Seto.

* * *

><p>Seto angled his head away from the bite on his jaw. The man held Seto's hands together against Seto's own chest, sitting on the edge of the bed. Restraining his hands was unnecessary. It had been a while since Seto hit back.<p>

Once he had sucked long enough to leave a deep red mark on Seto's jaw, the man leaned away. He moved his head into Seto's sight line, catching Seto's gaze.

"You seem focused today."

Seto blinked and gazed elsewhere. He did feel more aware than he had been. His hands were numb in his kidnapper's grip. They didn't shake or waiver. Seto didn't pull away. He held his gaze on the bookcase, counting each title. He had only made it through the top row. The books didn't hold his interest. Nothing held his interest. Staring at the words on the page could distract Seto for short intervals. He would just stare at words until they didn't look like words, and then relate with their lack of identity.

"Did Jim bring your food already? I haven't seen you eat in a while."

He released Seto's hands, which fell to his lap.

"Answer me, Seto."

"He did."

"Did you eat?"

Seto turned his head away from the man. His kidnapper sat on the bed beside him and sighed. He put his hand on Seto's thigh and rubbed the area between his knee and hip. Every so often, he would dig his fingernails into Seto's skin.

"Honestly, Seto. You would think that after two years we wouldn't have to break out the funnel."

Seto looked back just in time to see the man close his eyes, press his lips together, and shake his head. He made a mistake. After so much time of not knowing time, the man slipped. Seto couldn't move, stuck frozen waiting to see if the man would try to cover it up. He could have been pretending to err. It might be another game inside the twisted game.

It couldn't have been two years. Two years was too long. The police were supposed to find him. Someone was supposed to find him. He couldn't have been trapped for two years. That would make him nearly twenty. Mokuba would be fifteen, or maybe sixteen if it wasn't specifically a year. It had to be a lie.

The man tapped Seto's leg twice before removing his hand. Seto kept waiting for an explanation. Until that moment, everything the man had done to keep Seto in the dark had been flawless. He wasn't the sort to make little slips. He planned out toothbrushes and a babysitter.

"I'm bringing you food, and you are going to eat."

The man stood and left. Seto stared at the open door, expecting him to return with an excuse. Seto heard the door at the top of the staircase. He couldn't have been telling the truth.

But if he had told the truth and it had been two years since that day at KaibaCorp, there was nothing else to hold on to. Two years would make Seto a cold case. No one was coming for him.

Seto covered his face and squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. He really was nothing more than the chain.

Seto breathed.

His breaths echoed in his head.

His breaths felt tight, like he was forcing them down a throat that was too small. When his chest rose and fell, the movements were so small that Seto didn't see them at first glance. He had to part his lips to get more air. While he breathed, he couldn't breathe.

Five minutes ago, Seto would have struggled to define the time spent in the basement. Having such a definite as two years made him question it all. He wouldn't have guessed two years. It felt like his entire life had been trapped. Everything that happened before had been a dream. Nothing he remembered was real.

Seto almost smiled at that. He might have been able to believe his life was a dream if not for the thick series of scars covering his body. Gozaburo had been real. Mokuba was real.

Seto choked trying to keep from crying at the sudden thought. Mokuba was real and he would never see him again. He had hoped that with the time deprivation, it would actually turn out shorter than he feared. The gaps between his kidnapper's visits weren't days, but hours. The intervals between sleeping and sleeping again were minutes. He didn't want to believe that days disappeared from him, not just days, but weeks, months.

Two years.

It was such a specific period of time. It made everything too real. Seto remembered his first day, leaning his head against the door and telling himself that it wasn't happening. He wanted so badly to believe that it wasn't true. He wanted to believe that Gozaburo had hit him hard enough to knock him into a delirium.

It was too long to be a dream.

Seto tilted up his chin, leaning backward until his center of weight pulled him down to the bed. He rested on top of the blankets with his legs still over the bed's edge. Seto had been sleeping on the man's bed for two years.

He rolled to reach the notebook hidden under the mattress. Seto ran his fingers over the black cover, feeling the bends and tears that formed after years of use. _Years_, Seto thought. He rubbed his thumb over the fraying corner. Three pages had fallen out. Other pages had begun to rip at the binding. The pages were falling out and it was all Seto had left in his world.

Maybe the man had made the statement on purpose. Maybe he pretended to make the mistake to further ruin Seto's perspective. Seto knew that time had past. He didn't know what to believe for the length of his imprisonment. He didn't want to believe it had been so long. He wanted to go back to before the man made the statement and keep it from ever happening. It was one piece of information that he didn't want to know.

Flipping through his past letters, Seto found the first empty page. It was closer to the end than he remembered being. He had maybe thirty pages left. If he wrote smaller, he might be able to make the pages last longer. Seto looked at the previous page. He already wrote small.

Seto put the pen to the first line and started to write, only to find that no ink came out. He scribbled the pen against the top margin, but still nothing. Seto put the tip of the pen in his mouth and tried to suck out the ink. He put the pen to the page, but again nothing came out.

He stopped trying. It had been two years since he had been given the pen. It had to run out at some point. Seto held it between his index and middle finger. The man might not give him another.

Seto waited until the man walked back in. He didn't carry any food, only a bottle with a thick liquid inside. The contents sloshed with each step, leaving little chunks of the drink mix stuck to the top of the bottle. The man crossed the room and handed Seto the bottle.

"Vanilla this time."

"It's out of ink," Seto said, holding up the pen.

"Hm. It's lasted a while."

"Two years?"

The man smiled. "Perhaps."

"What kind of strategy is it to say something and take it back?"

"Strategy? Are we playing a game, Seto?"

Seto's kidnapper continued to hold out the bottle until Seto looked away. He exhaled and set the protein shake on the floor.

"I expect you to drink that."

"Will you bring me another pen?"

The man pursed his lips and then made a clicking noise with his tongue. He drummed his fingers against the side of his face as he stood over Seto. Seto remained still under the scrutiny.

"Drink the shake," he said. Seto waited, hearing the moment's pause in the man's voice. "In front of me. Now."

With no answer to his question, Seto could only assume that drinking the protein shake would earn him a new pen. Seto set aside the notebook, bent forward to pick up the plastic bottle, and touched the lip of the bottle to his mouth. There was never a cap on the bottles. They were a choking hazard, and Seto would use anything to end it all.

Seto took a sip and rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to try to get rid of the aftertaste. He repeated the action with every sip, until the contents of the bottle were half-gone.

Seto's stomach protested to having so much inside of him. Seto never ate much, just took the bites required to make Jim leave. Half of the shake was more than he had ingested in, well, what he now knew was two years.

"I can't anymore," he said.

The man nodded and sat down beside Seto. He took the half-empty bottle from Seto's hands and reached forward to set it on the bookshelf. Leaning back, he wrapped an arm around Seto's shoulders and pulled him into a side hug.

"You have no idea how happy you've made me, Seto," the man began. "It's hard to remember a time before you were here."

Seto caught himself before nodding in agreement.

"And you have been so good recently. I love how good you have been."

The words "I love you" had never been spoken in the basement room. A part of Seto had expected to hear it, months, years ago. The man had professed love for Seto's eyes, lips, neck, chest, ears – but never for Seto himself. The man loved Seto's body and Seto's obedience, nothing more.

"You're never going to leave me. Are you Seto? You are going to stay with me forever."

The hand that wasn't around Seto reached for his hand. Seto's hand stayed limp when the man intertwined their fingers. The man's thumb stroked the back of Seto's. A long run of goosebumps branched up Seto's arm. Seto didn't shiver. He remained with his head resting against the man's shoulder, their bodies touching everywhere the man could manage.

"It could be worse, right? I could have built a dungeon rather than this lovely little room. I could have built display cages and crosses to play with you. And now your father can't hurt you anymore."

Seto's mouth felt dry. His tongue felt like it had never experienced water rushing over it. His vocal chords tightened, like they were going to snap like a string on a violin.

No, it couldn't be worse. At least those things would make his life make more sense. Seto could understand the man's behavior if he was a straight-forward psychopath, rather than the odd mix of psycho and sociopathy. Seto would rather be left with no option than have to pretend like he was adjusting to the man's attention. Seto understood abuse.

The man repositioned Seto so that they faced each other. He put a hand on either side of Seto's face and stared. Seto didn't know for how long. It didn't matter. There wasn't time anymore. There was just the man holding Seto's face.

"You are still so beautiful."

"You're disgusting," Seto whispered. Seto knew that he was angry; he felt what once would have been anger bubbling in his consciousness. But the bubble popped, leaving Seto with a vague notion that he was supposed to be upset about something.

The man laughed and pressed his forehead to Seto's. He pushed his face forward until their noses were side-by-side and their lips were touching.

"You know what they say," the man said, speaking his words directly into Seto's mouth. "If you don't have anything nice to say-"

The sentence trailed away, turning into a kiss. Seto's hands remained in his lap, and he left his lips parted for the man. Moisture from the man's mouth leaked into Seto's, but he did nothing to try to stop it. He focused on the lingering taste of bitter vanilla and resolved himself to not say anything at all.

Stopping, the man pulled back to brush Seto's hair out of his eyes. The man's gaze drifted across every inch of Seto's face.

"I'll get you a new pen."

Seto nodded, actually grateful. The gratitude was all that it took. For the first time in years, since the first night in Gozaburo's home, Seto felt a warm streak of water slide down his cheek. He lifted a hand to wipe it away, clutching his fingers into a fist to hold the tear.

It took two years for Seto to fully accept that there was nothing he could do. He felt more tears building up in his eyelashes and didn't try to stop them. Seto pressed his lips together because now that he had the realization, he didn't know how to _be _anymore.

The man wrapped his arms around Seto's head and hugged him tightly against his chest. The man rocked him forward and back without a word. Seto pressed his face against the man's neck and tried to find any comfort that he could. The entire world, the whole universe could melt away, and Seto would never again know anything more than this.

"This is better," the man whispered. "Isn't this better?"

The man rocked Seto until the tears evaporated. Seto came to understand that landmarks were the only way that he had to mark what he used to view as time. The length that the man held him, the seven-hundred page novels, the gap in-between meals – those were all Seto's calendar.

He left Seto lying on his back, wrapped in the blanket, and with a promise to return shortly with a pen. Seto waited until he heard the door close before rolling to his side and wrapping his own arms around himself. His body kept breathing although there was no point. He couldn't kill himself, but he couldn't keep living.

Seto stopped everything but breathing until he felt a hand stroking his hair. The man had cut Seto's hair the last period of time before Seto was asleep. Each time the man passed his fingers through Seto's hair, the moment was a breath shorter than it had been before.

"Here is your pen. I'll take the old one."

Seto had never been able to gather enough force for the pen to do any real damage to his veins. He had broken the skin with it once, but then spent several sleep cycles keeping the injury hidden from the man for fear that he would take the pen away. The wire binding of the notebook was too flexible to dig into his skin and then drag out a gash deep enough to split an artery.

Seto wanted to try, but was terrified of getting caught and losing his contact with Mokuba. So when the man left the pen on the pillow in front of Seto's face, he didn't grab for it right away. He had so much to say to Mokuba, but could not think of a single thing to say. He wanted to tell Mokuba everything, but at the same time, didn't want Mokuba to know anything that happened in the basement.

After some length of his life past, Seto's muscles screamed to move. They flexed and twitched, as if testing to see if he had fallen asleep. He tried to stay locked in place, but was outvoted by his limbs.

The pen was identical to the previous one. It only lacked the small scratches on the plastic case from two years of being clipped to the notebook and taken off. In another two years-

In another two years, Seto prayed with every ounce of strength he could gather, he wanted to be dead.

The only other option would be to given in to the man, to not only allow him to own Seto completely, but to go along with what he wanted, to act first. That would never be a real option for Seto, not with Mokuba loitering in his mind. What kind of message would that send to his baby brother?

Seto grabbed the pen and touched the tip to his lips. He understood that such thoughts were out of line with reality. The room was his only reality. Nothing that happened in the room would leave the house, but even so, the insanity Seto had long-feared won. As long as Seto wrote to Mokuba, Mokuba would know everything.

If Mokuba knew that Seto was alive, then at least Seto could do something good from his chained imprisonment. Seto drew a spiral in the top corner of the page until it turned a shiny black. He started to write because it was the only thing that made sense.

_Dear Mokuba,_

_He says it has been two years, but it feels like so much longer. It feels as though I have been in this room for decades upon decades. Time here doesn't exist._

_At the same time, it feels shorter. I have been here for one long day, for the worst night's sleep I have ever had. I have been here for the length of an epic nightmare._

_It is unbearable. I have lost everything, my life, my clothing, my locket, my self-will, my hope, time itself, and most importantly, I have lost you._

_It terrifies me to think of what he might be doing to you. He needs an heir, and without me, you have to take the brunt of that. But, you never were as stubborn as me. You have no one to protect. That was all that kept me going. You are all that keeps me going, even now._

_I often wonder what you would think of my letters. I understand that you will never read them, so I ramble a lot. I never rambled before. I blame it all on this room. Every moment I spend in here drains some of my sanity with it._

_And here I go on about time again. Perhaps it would not be so terrible if I just knew that outside this windowless room, the world still revolved. It is the not knowing that is driving me mad. Or perhaps I am mad already._

_-Your Brother_


End file.
